


The Other Side of You

by paperclipbitch



Category: High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Underage Drinking, also I can't believe i wrote this 6 years ago, i cannot believe how long this fic is omfg, this movie and i are both feeling a bit old rn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 01:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 43,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclipbitch/pseuds/paperclipbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m not big on the whole… twinkling thing.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted on LJ in 2007] I had a sudden DAMN I HAVE A LOT OF HSM FEELINGS resurgence and figured I might as well transfer this. There's a few Britishisms in it but I think it's held up pretty okay? It's just insanely long. Gosh. With lots of Ryan and Kelsi being BFFs because I love them, gosh.
> 
> Actually Helpful Note: this is set post HSM1, in a world without HSM2.

Someone has snuck alcohol into the aftershow party, which Chad thinks is, on the whole, probably a good thing, because there are altogether too many people in sparkly outfits fluttering about giggling to handle the situation sober. Oh, don’t get him wrong, he’s being very supportive, because apparently that’s what you _do_ when your best friend goes nuts and decides that dancing in musicals with people he’s been going to school with since kindergarten but never bothered to give the time of day to until now is how he really wants to spend his time. 

Troy Bolton, Wildcat superstar, kicks ass on the basketball court anytime he gets close to it, lusted after by every girl in school (and probably half the guys, not that any of them will ever admit it), everyone’s Golden Boy, _is wearing eyeliner_. He’s actually wearing a lot more than just eyeliner, it sort of looks like his face has been painted-on, which is a bit scary, and he’s laughing with his arm around Gabriella. Gabriella’s hair is sparkling and her mouth is a bit too red, all glossy and carefully made-up. 

It’s been a fantastic evening; the musical has never been so well-attended, and everyone’s jumping around madly, hugging people they won’t even be willing to _speak_ to tomorrow, and someone spiked the punch about half an hour ago so the effects are just starting to set in. Zeke made a _cake_ ; there were candles and everything’s just so _shiny_ and _pleased with itself_ at the moment that Chad’s been left with a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Even Sharpay Evans has turned up, dressed to kill and therefore outshining everyone else in the room (which was probably the plan). She’s all smiles and brightly sparkling teeth, bad-mouthing Gabriella behind her back in some kind of messed-up theatre speak Chad doesn’t even begin to understand, and then grinning brightly at Gabriella and Troy and assuring them that they were _wonderful_ ‘… for amateurs, anyway’.

Chad drifts his way through the people and just feels lost. He’s not sure where he fits in here, if he fits in with this picture at all; he doesn’t sing or dance or secretly bake or have some kind of awesome other talent he hasn’t mentioned. He’s not even dating one of the performers, and although Troy’s meant to be his best friend, this is a whole other Troy Bolton. A Troy Bolton who smells like theatrical make-up and hairspray, a whole other person who has no relation to Chad whatsoever. 

Sometime later, and it’s really weird that none of the teachers have noticed how the students are gradually succumbing to whatever the hell’s in the fruit punch. Troy’s got red from Gabriella’s lipstick smeared on his own mouth, the girl in question is laughing behind her curtain of dark, shimmering hair (there’s gold stuff sprinkled through it, to reflect off the footlights), Jason and Kelsi are dancing to a beat that has nothing to do with the music playing, and Chad _swears_ he can hear Sharpay’s voice following him around, brittle, sharp, like glass, and her laugh sounds like it could shatter at any moment.

Chad is starting to get a really serious headache. 

No one notices when he goes out to get some air, because, for one thing, he isn’t smothered in four kinds of sparkles. It’s sort of a relief to get outside, where the school looks weird in the darkness, but he can breathe and nothing’s shimmering at all. 

“Man,” he murmurs, rubbing a hand over his face, and sitting down on the steps. The stone is cold, and seeps straight through his pants in moments, and it’s kind of ridiculously freezing out here, which is what he wants right now (though Chad can’t help suspecting that it’s going to get old _really fast_ ).

“Wow. You look kind of… corpse-like.”

Chad is about to turn his head and inform the speaker that they can _just fuck off, ok?_ when he notices that it’s Ryan Evans. Hat at an angle on his hair, bemused expression on his face. He thinks Ryan might have been one of the backing dancers actually, though he’s not entirely sure what the plot of the musical was in the first place, and therefore isn’t quite sure if there were backing dancers or not. It’s not like it _matters_ , not really.

“What’re you doing out here?” Chad asks, noting Ryan’s relaxed posture; he’s probably been out here a while. These theatrical-types are meant to be eccentric; but this is bordering on ridiculous. Ryan gives him a lazy smile, which Chad has to squint to see through the darkness.

“It’s Sharpay’s party,” he explains, “Not mine.”

“Sharpay wasn’t even in the musical,” Chad points out.

“You think a little thing like that can stop her?” Ryan is still grinning, and Chad can’t help smiling back at that one. 

“… So why are you out here?” Ryan asks after a pause that’s far too long. Chad considers this. He’s not sure he can say half the things he’s thinking, partly because he’s not sure what all of them _are_. He waves a hand vaguely. 

“I’m not big on the whole… twinkling thing.”

Ryan bursts out laughing. Chad isn’t sure that he’s ever seen Ryan actually laugh before, not like this, but then, he reminds himself, the Evans family weren’t really part of his world until recently. It’s weird, and he can’t work out whether he should be trying to make friends, or should be running in the opposite direction shrieking. The latter is the more tempting, but he thinks that it wouldn’t go down all that well. Might make next semester a bit awkward, anyway.

“Did it get too claustrophobic for you?” Ryan asks, and Chad shifts sideways on the stairs a little. Just so he can see Ryan properly. It’s hard to have a conversation where the other person is basically a shadow.

“Everything _sparkles_ ,” Chad explains a little helplessly. “Is it always like that?”

“Pretty much.” Ryan smirks. “You get used to it.”

Chad isn’t sure he could ever get used to it, but that’s why he’s the basketball guy, not the eyeliner-and-sparkly-things guy. Then again, there’s got to be another reason why Ryan is hiding out here.

“It’s getting pretty mad inside,” Chad says, not wanting the conversation to stop because if it does then he’s going to have to go back to moping, and he hates moping. “Someone spiked the punch.”

“I know,” Ryan says serenely. When Chad stares at him, he smirks and opens the messenger bag beside him, indicating two empty glass bottles.

“You didn’t.” Chad is laughing as he says it, and Ryan winks at him. 

Ryan winks at him, and in the half-light, something twinkles. It’s then that Chad realises that Ryan has _glitter_ on his _eyelashes_. 

This is just too damn weird.

“You’re all _insane_ ,” he says with feeling, because Ryan’s eyelashes are literally sparkling and it’s very creepy. 

“Go and have some more punch,” Ryan suggests. “It’ll help.”

Chad has a feeling that he’s probably right.

~

Troy decides to leave his singing career far behind him and focus on the new semester’s basketball, much to the silent relief of the team. Sure, they’ve all decided to carry on trying out new things – Zeke brings in frightening amounts of cookies and pancakes and cupcakes as he experiments with different flavours (with varying degrees of success) and Jason and Kelsi are being so adorable that it’s a seriously disturbing sometimes – but when it comes right down to it, life is a hell of a lot simpler when they’re all focused on one thing. Besides, Troy humming in the locker room was getting _really_ irritating.

Chad’s not-really-in-any-way-romantic ‘romance’ with Taylor dies neatly after two and a half dates, because they’ve got nothing in common. Taylor makes it clear that she thinks he’s some sort of semi-braindead asshole, nothing more than the sum of his vaguely attractive parts, a pretty decent jumpshot, and a disturbing selection of slogan t-shirts; and Chad knows that Taylor’s way too smart for him. 

“This really isn’t working, is it,” he says, halfway through their third date. Taylor, who has been inspecting her fingernails rather than look at him (though he _did_ make a slight effort to dress up, she should acknowledge that at least), finally gives him a flat sort of smile.

“It really isn’t,” she agrees, but she looks friendlier than he’s seen her in months. Chad sighs, reaching for another slice of pizza, leaning back in his chair as all the tension flows out of his body.

“Well, we tried,” he shrugs.

“Not very hard,” Taylor reminds him, but she reaches for more pizza too. “How about we skip the movie and go back to not really being friends?”

“I’m down with that,” Chad tells her, and that’s exactly what they do; with no noticeable transition between ‘dating’ and ‘not dating’. It sucks, but at least it isn’t painful. 

He winds up late at school one Wednesday, after a totally undeserved detention from his math teacher (so he hasn’t done any homework in two weeks. When is he actually ever gonna need to use trigonometry in real life? Exactly.) and a gruelling extra-long practise, and then, after _that_ , just when Chad is beginning to think he wants to collapse on the floor and not move for the next _forever_ , Coach Bolton makes him run a hideous number of laps around the gym for being late to practise in the first place. Troy throws him an apologetic look, but he can’t overrule his dad and Chad would never ask him to. 

The only men’s bathroom unlocked this late is the one nearest the theatre, and when Chad pushes open the door he sees Ryan Evans, totally oblivious to his presence, standing in front of the mirrors. Ryan isn’t wearing a hat, and that combined with the expression on his face – like he’s going to be horribly sick at any moment – makes him look oddly naked. Chad feels like he’s intruding on something private, personal; something he should definitely get the hell away from. 

“Shit.” Ryan’s hands are trembling, really trembling, and he’s trying to tie a cream-coloured tie. Badly. His fingers keep slipping and it’s clear that he’s getting more and more frustrated.

“Hey, man,” Chad says, reaching a decision and walking properly into the bathroom. “What’s up?”

Ryan jumps at the sound of his voice, and scrapes up a smile from somewhere. It’s horrible to look at.

“There’s a dance show,” he explains. “Shar and I are performing.”

Chad vaguely remembers some glittery-looking posters up on the bulletin boards. Thankfully, neither Troy nor Gabriella felt the need to take part, so it hasn’t affected him this time round.

“Cool,” he says. “What’re you doing?”

“Swing,” Ryan replies, the smile relaxing into something a little more real. “But Shar wants the dressing room to herself, so I’m in here.”

He looks pretty good, actually, Chad finally notices; black shirt and pants, cream vest, shiny black shoes with those white things on them, and there’s a black fedora with a cream band sitting on one of the sinks. This close, Chad also notices that Ryan is wearing black eyeliner; though there are thankfully no sparkles this time. The only problem is the tie, which Ryan is spectacularly messing up.

“Let me do it,” Chad sighs, unable to watch him struggle any more. It’s _painful_. Ryan gives him a doubtful look, but meekly holds the tie out. It feels warm in Chad’s hands, and the silk is amazingly soft.

“I don’t want to ask how much this cost, do I?” he asks with a smirk, carefully placing it around Ryan’s neck and tying it in a tidy Windsor knot. With his knuckles pressed to Ryan’s chest, he can feel how hard the other guy’s heart is beating.

“Probably not.” When Ryan laughs, Chad can feel his breath on his face, and finally registers just how close they’re standing.

“Damn, I feel under-dressed,” he says awkwardly, straightening the tie one final time and stepping back a bit too fast. Ryan turns to the mirror, apparently not noticing or at least not caring about the flush spreading over Chad’s face.

“Where’d you learn?” he asks, touching the knot of the tie briefly. “I mean, it’s not exactly something you need every day as a basketball player, is it?”

Chad shrugs. “It comes in handy,” he mutters, and _does not_ remember his daddy teaching him, back when he was younger and the tie was way too long for him. Ryan doesn’t push it.

“Well, thanks.” He carefully angles the hat, brushes imaginary dust off his shirt, and gives himself a last once-over. “Guess I’d better get going.”

“Knock ‘em dead, man,” Chad says, clasping Ryan’s shoulder in what he hopes is some kind of brotherly gesture of solidarity, but ruining the effect slightly by pulling back a moment too late like he’s been burnt. Ryan takes in a deep breath, and lets it out slowly.

“Oh, I will.” He gives Chad a quick, unreadable smile, and is out the door a minute later.

Chad stands absolutely still in the centre of the bathroom for a while, still feeling the silk between his fingers.

~

During second period biology class Chad is asked to take a note down to Ms Darbus. He does his best to protest against this (since pretty much every time Ms Darbus sees him she goes off on a rant about how he’s not nearly as culturally enriching as Troy, and it’s getting kind of old now), but it doesn’t work. Which is why he finds himself walking down to the theatre with a hall pass in his back pocket and a note he can’t even be bothered to read folded in his hand.

He hears the singing even before he pushes open the door, a clean, certain male voice accompanied by a piano. It’s a pretty slow song, lyrics about finding the one you need and wanting to keep them by your side forever, stuff about sunlight and rainy afternoons and your footsteps at my back door; but done in a way that actually isn’t too cheesy. And even though he’s not sure why Chad finds himself hiding behind the wall at the back, rather than walking in and interrupting. Looking into the theatre, he sees that it’s Ryan, leant on the piano and reading music over Kelsi’s shoulder. He’s wearing freakily tight, lime green pants that no one in the world should be able to carry off, and a striped trilby tilted over his face. His fingers are tapping out time on the piano lid.

“It’s lovely, Kelsi,” Ryan says when he’s finished, patting her on the back. “Shar’s going to hate it, but it’s a great song.”

Kelsi looks more resigned than upset.

“Yeah, I know how she feels about ballads.” She smiles a little wickedly. “Don’t suppose _you_ want it for anything?”

Ryan returns the grin.

“Sharpay would be really pleased if I started singing solo,” he laughs. “I can see her strangling me with one of her sparkly headscarves now…” When Kelsi giggles, he adds: “I wonder if she’d let me pick the colour?”

Chad supposes he knew the drama club were all friends, but he’s never seen Kelsi this relaxed with anyone but Troy, Gabriella and Jason. She’s grinning up at Ryan without a trace of the fear/penitence that’s usually in her expression when Sharpay’s around.

“And there’s no one you think you might need a ballad for? No special guy-”

“Sadly not.” Ryan playfully pushes her cap over her face, shifting to sit beside her on the piano bench.

“I thought that you thought that-”

“It was just a crush,” Ryan replies quickly. “I got over it. Stop trying to set me up with every guy that I spend more than five minutes of time with!”

Kelsi plays a few notes idly on the piano, Ryan copies them a couple of octaves higher, and they slide into an obviously well-rehearsed duet. Chad can’t hear what they’re saying, the music’s too loud, but that’s ok because he’s heard enough. More than enough.

So, Ryan Evans is… 

Well, it explains the hats anyway.

“Mr Danforth! Is there something I can help you with, or do you intend to stand there looking useless all day?”

The boom of Ms Darbus’ voice startles Ryan and Kelsi and the piano music stops abruptly. She’s walked in through the door behind Chad, and sweeps past him, leaving him no choice but to slink guiltily into the theatre after her. Ryan and Kelsi are wearing identical what-exactly-did-he-hear expressions as Chad hands the note to Ms Darbus. She hurries over to where she keeps her desk beside the front row of seats to write a reply.

Chad looks up at the stage while he waits.

“Hey, Evans!” 

Ryan looks distinctly cornered under the sharp glow of the footlights. 

“Yeah?”

“How’d the dance show go?”

“Oh.” Ryan’s expression shifts to a mixture of relief and confusion. “Good. It was good.”

Chad offers him a smile and a thumbs-up before Ms Darbus hands him the new note and shoos him out of the theatre (maybe she thinks he’ll infect it with evil basketball-boy cooties if he stays too long). But, once he’s back in class, Chad can’t concentrate.

So, Ryan Evans is _gay_. And, an unhelpful little part of his brain reminds him, _single_.

~

The fourth time Chad catches himself staring at the back of Ryan’s head during homeroom, instead of listening to Troy’s extremely boring and pointless story about whatever he and Gabriella did over the weekend, he starts to get worried. Sure, everyone spends a certain amount of time staring at the back of Ryan’s head, generally trying to figure out exactly what was going through his mind when he decided to put on that particular sparkly fedora, but this time Chad hasn’t even noticed what colour Ryan’s hat is today. For once, he isn’t staring incredulously at Ryan’s clothing; he’s staring at Ryan. 

This is not good. This is _monumentally_ not good.

“So then Gabi said that we should – hey, man, are you ok?”

Chad shakes his head slightly.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Dude, you look like you’re gonna be sick,” Zeke says from his other side.

“I was just up late, you know, not-doing homework,” Chad explains quickly, with an attempt at a smile. Zeke nods, turning back to his conversation with Jason. Troy narrows his eyes at Chad, clearly thinking there’s more to it, but Chad quickly brings up Gabriella again and Troy gets that creepy, glazed expression he gets every time someone mentions her name. 

Ryan glances back, and Chad stares fixedly at Troy, pretending to be interested in whatever it is that his best friend is babbling about. 

Two days later, Chad decides that he needs to _talk_ to someone, because he thinks that he might be going kind of crazy. He has no idea what he wants to say, but he can’t stand being stuck in his own head, worrying about _nothing_. But who do you talk to about this kind of thing? He dismisses Troy, because although Troy always has and always will be there for him, Chad really can’t picture having an I-think-I-might-slightly-kind-of-have-a-sort-of- _thing_ -for-Ryan-Evans conversation with his best friend. He thinks about maybe talking to Taylor, since she’s logical and vaguely sympathetic, but then again that’s a whole car-wreck he doesn’t want to get into (“Two-and-a-half dates with you and a few awkward kisses turned me off women for life! Now help me deal with _my_ pain!”). 

Then, during free period workout, it hits him. What about Kelsi? 

Chad manages to catch her in one of the practise rooms after school, where she’s wearing a pretty hat with flowers on it, and humming to herself while jotting down notes on a sheet of paper.

“Uh,” he begins. _Real smooth, Danforth._

Kelsi gives him a sweet smile.

“What can I help you with, Chad?”

Chad takes a deep breath and pushes the door shut behind him.

“I wanted to talk to you, actually,” he tells her. “I mean, I kinda overheard you and Ryan talking last week, and I was thinking…”

“Yes?” Kelsi prompts, indicating a chair near the piano. Chad sits gratefully down on it, because this isn’t a situation he ever thought he’d find himself in, and it’s a little frightening.

“I was thinking that I might be,” Chad starts, freaks out, and finishes: “…interested in singing.”

Kelsi stares at him, eyes wide. Chad would be staring at himself in horror if it were physically possible. The shocked silence in the room lasts for way too long.

“You are?” Kelsi asks doubtfully.

“Yes.” Chad replies, deciding that he might as well stick with this stupid plan because he’s really got no idea how to get out of this. “I mean, uh, Troy, you know, it helps him chill out before games, and I thought…”

Kelsi is still looking non-plussed but that’s ok because Chad isn’t really sure what he’s going on about either. 

“Well,” she says, pushing a page of sheet music over to him, “We could give it a try now. See what you think.”

Chad wants to run away screaming but he reminds himself that it’s only Kelsi. She is a nice girl who will probably not hurt him, and besides, he’s not a _bad_ singer. He just… doesn’t. So he goes for it. And Kelsi, once she’s wiped the stunned expression off her face, really helps him out, slowing everything right down, and somewhere along the line Chad realises that he’s _enjoying_ himself. Which is random.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Kelsi tells him as he’s about to leave. “If you want to try it again, that would be cool.” A wicked little smirk appears. “Also, if you think you’re gay, you can talk to me about that too.”

It occurs to Chad that maybe you notice more when you’re quiet and watch people instead of harassing them all the time. And also that maybe none of them know Kelsi at _all_.

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” he announces clearly, “But thanks for the singing lesson.”

Kelsi shrugs, but her expression tells Chad she’s not buying it.

Next door to the practise room is a small dance studio, with freaky amounts of mirrors and a polished hardwood floor. Chad peers through the small window in the door as he passes. He almost laughs in a resigned way, because, of course, Ryan is in there, twirling gracefully around to the CD player on the floor. For some stupid reason, though, Chad can’t make himself move, watching Ryan twist and bend and the loose blue shirt he’s wearing rides up and Chad catches a glimpse of a sharp, pale hipbone. Something indefinable but certain stabs through his stomach, just for a split second, and he swallows hard, refusing to acknowledge it.

On his next turn, Ryan catches sight of him, stops and walks over to the door. His cheeks are pink from the exercise but the smile is genuine enough.

“You coming in?” he asks, opening the door. 

Chad honestly very nearly says _yes_ , but something stops him.

“I don’t dance,” he states simply. Lays his cards flat on the table, and for a moment Ryan’s smile slips a little.

“You don’t dance, you don’t twinkle…” Ryan’s tone is teasing, but Chad thinks there might be something else underneath the words, just maybe, and his brain suddenly leaps onto the idea that Ryan is _flirting_ with him, and once that idea wakes up, he can’t let go of it. “What _do_ you do?”

A month or so ago Chad would have instantly replied something about basketball and sports and possibly slipped in something insulting about the drama club, but now he can’t think of anything that doesn’t sound either stupid or provocative.

“I’ve gotta go,” he mutters, “Or I’ll miss my ride home. See ya.”

“Yeah.” Ryan isn’t smiling at all anymore, and he pulls the door shut behind him with something that’s very, _very_ close to being a slam.

~

“You’re acting weird, man,” Troy tells him while they wait for their chemistry teacher to come in and tell them how to explode stuff in a brightly-coloured fashion or whatever it is she talks about while Chad’s daydreaming. 

“You are,” Zeke agrees, and Jason is nodding.

“Sort of… twitchy,” Troy adds.

Sometimes, Chad thinks, it would just be easier not to have any friends at all. 

“I’m not acting twitchy!” he protests a little too loudly, and he can feel Kelsi’s stare between his shoulder blades. He refuses to turn around though, because he doesn’t want to be manipulated by someone that tiny and non-threatening-looking.

“You are.” Gabriella adds her two cents, because she and Troy are pretty much joined at the hip these days. Most of the time, Chad doesn’t mind this, because it’s nice to see Troy happy and Gabi’s fun to be around, but today, he wishes that she’d just keep her mouth shut. “What’s up, Chad?”

“You all need to get lives,” Chad tells them, “And stop sitting around psychoanalysing mine.”

His friends all start giving each other knowing looks, as though everything he says somehow proves their theory that Something Is Definitely Up With Chad Danforth And We Must Figure Out What It Is In The Most Intrusive Way Possible. 

“Defensive much?” Jason asks, smirking as though this is all some huge joke. Chad considers screaming and banging his head against the wall to see if that would make this all less painful, and then decides that’s a pretty unhinged thing to do and it won’t convince his friends that he’s acting normally, and, really, _nothing at all is different_.

“Seriously guys,” he says, “There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m not being defensive, and I’m definitely not being twitchy.”

He feels ever so slightly crazy, and the sympathetic-but-amused expressions of the Wildcats are not helping anything. Neither is the fact that Ryan is sitting at the lab bench beside theirs and determinedly not looking at him. Although that could be to do with the fact he’s paying rapt attention to Sharpay, who appears to be delivering a fifteen-minute speech on why her new pink shoes are far superior to the last pair of pink shoes she had (they don’t look any different to Chad, but then shoes aren’t really his _thing_ ).

“Something’s up, though,” Troy says, resolutely sticking to his theme. “Why don’t you just tell us-” 

Chad has seriously never been so glad to see their chemistry teacher _in his life_.

Midway through the class, when he’s heading over to one of the cupboards for a Bunsen burner, Ryan brushes past him. Chad figures it’s an accident, from the way Ryan almost flinches, but the entire left side of his body goes momentarily numb. He opens his mouth, ready to give the _hey man, I was an asshole, and I’m sorry_ , that’s been on the tip of his tongue for days, but Ryan doesn’t turn to look at him, and Chad swallows the words back down.

“Definitely twitchy,” Kelsi mumbles as she walks past him, and Chad suddenly remembers how to move again. His hands shake for most of the rest of the period, though, and he puts far too much zinc oxide into his solution while trying his best not to turn around and see if Ryan is watching him. Because of course Chad doesn’t want him to be watching him. That would be stupid and creepy and-

“You look really sick, dude,” Zeke observes helpfully. “Maybe you’re coming down with something.”

Chad chokes and tries desperately to turn it into a cough.

“You’ve lost your mind, haven’t you?” Troy suggests a little while later when Chad isn’t concentrating and nearly sets his sweater on fire. The guy kinda has a point, actually.

“I’m fine!” Chad insists, though he suspects he must have some kind of a manic expression on his face. “Just chill out, ok?”

Troy doesn’t look convinced and Chad can’t exactly blame him. They’ve been best friends since… _ever_ , and however wrapped up in Gabriella and her cotton-candy wholesomeness Troy is, he’s got eyes and so has noticed exactly how distracted and clumsy Chad is being at the moment. The worst part of it all, though, is that Chad isn’t exactly sure _why_ he’s acting like this, because, if nothing else, he is absolutely certain that he has _no idea_ what he wants.

Which really is in no way helpful.

~


	2. Chapter 2

A week after the dance show, and Ryan realises with a little twist of horror in his stomach that he hasn’t unknotted the cream tie he wore for the performance. And realises with even more horror, staring at it neatly dangling from the hanger in his closet, that he has no _intention_ of undoing the knot.

It is stupid and irrational and sooner or later Sharpay is going to open his closet looking for something or other, and then she’s going to notice that he hasn’t put it back in his tie drawer, and she’s going to Ask Him Questions about it. And then… and then when he has no satisfactory answers for her, she’s going to torment him in a persistent fashion, until he cracks and admits that he’s lost his mind. He has to have lost his mind, because for an entirely illogical reason he thinks that he might possibly be crushing on _Chad Danforth_ of all people. 

Sometimes, Ryan thinks that Sharpay knew he was gay before he did; and if she didn’t, she certainly figured it out pretty quick when she walked in on him kissing _her_ first boyfriend. She took it remarkably well, actually, once the shrieking had died down. But Ryan knows only too well that Sharpay will bombard him with lists at intrusively inconvenient hours of the day and night, going on and on about all the reasons that Chad Danforth is _a very and extremely bad idea_ (it’s not like Ryan doesn’t already _know_ that, after all), and it will all be very stressful and noisy and not at all good for his Inner Peace.

Not that Ryan has got all that much inner peace at the moment anyway; Sharpay is bouncing back from the whole Winter Musicale fiasco in a way that seems to involve a lot of high-pitched bitching about Gabriella Montez, and stomping about in her new lilac glitter wedges at unreasonable hours of the morning. His mom is drifting happily about the house, dispensing petnames and/or her credit card with soothing dignity whenever Ryan enters the room, apparently not noticing the sheer amount of _sound_ Sharpay’s latest world-domination scheme is generating. 

And Ryan himself is not exactly an oasis of calm. 

“Why don’t you try yoga, ducky?” his mother suggests in a slow, steady voice, standing on her head with a steaming mug of camomile tea on the floor beside the mat. Later on, when Sharpay is making a loud phonecall to one of her sycophantic little friends, Ryan sits down on the floor and attempts to become one with nature or at least to tune out Sharpay’s excited monologue. 

When she finally hangs up, and Ryan has overheard more about shoes and mascara than he ever wanted to know, he goes into her room. 

“Ry, get a project or something,” she suggests, not looking at him as she hunts through the various drawers on her dressing table, flapping one hand dismissively in his direction, the nails painted shocking pink (to match tomorrow’s pumps). “I’ve got an exorcism to do.”

Ryan rolls his eyes but melodrama is an Evans family tradition, right up there with applauding the existence of dessert and intimidating innocent people, so lets his sister get back to whatever she needs to do to get over Gabriella stealing her place in the musical. Sitting up sleeplessly on the couch that night with a self-indulgent tub of Haagen Dazs, while Sharpay wanders about upstairs raiding his closet and putting together a masterplan, Ryan considers yoga, and then considers getting some kind of restraining order put on his family (he loves them, but they’re so much more fun from a safe distance).

In the end, he decides to just take Sharpay’s advice and get a pet project. He’s eaten too much icecream and it’s late so the course he decides to take is not very sensible, and he will no doubt regret it. On the other hand, he _has_ been brought up an Evans, and therefore has the slightly shaky but nonetheless fervent belief that if he wants something enough it _will_ end up his. 

Before school on Monday, he swans into one of the practise rooms. Kelsi is yawning over a page of sheet music, wearing a purple newsboy cap that actually matches her sneakers. He is impressed, but doesn’t let himself get distracted.

“I have a new project,” Ryan announces, “And you’re going to help me.”

Kelsi looks less than enthusiastic. “Am I?”

Ryan comes to lean on the piano lid, adjusting Kelsi’s hat to a slightly better angle for her.

“You are,” he assures her.

“I’m very busy writing the Spring Musical, and a couple of songs Sharpay asked for, and I do have a life of my own-” Kelsi begins tentatively, but obediently shuts up when Ryan _looks_ at her. 

“It’s not that sort of project,” he informs her.

“Oh.” Kelsi frowns. “Can’t you ask Sharpay to help you?”

Ryan leans over Kelsi’s shoulder and presses down on a few minor keys with a horrible discordant sound. Kelsi winces, and readjusts his fingers to create something more pleasing to the ears. They’ve got a deal going on; Kelsi teaches him piano, and in return Ryan teaches her dancing. He’s got a second part to that plan, actually, that entails getting Kelsi into a musical before they leave high school, but he hasn’t shared that bit yet in case it freaks her out.

Kelsi sighs, and looks at Ryan.

“What do you want?”

Ryan gives her what he hopes is a charming, winning smile, and not one that says I-ate-too-much-ice-cream-last-night-and-this-suddenly-became-a-good-idea.

“Chad Danforth.”

There is a very long pause. Kelsi blinks a few stunned times.

“I just write music,” she says helplessly. “And I don’t work miracles. Is Chad even…?”

Ryan shrugs.

“That bit’s not important.”

“I think you’ll find it is.” Kelsi gives him a shy, tentative smile. “Let’s get you someone else – I think Blake was checking you out at the last Drama Club meeting.”

Blake has an unfortunate name, and unfortunate hair, but he does have nice eyes and a very sweet smile. Ryan considers this.

“Was I wearing my skinny jeans?”

Kelsi looks thoughtful for a moment, because the poor girl has many great qualities but photographic clothing memory isn’t one of them.

“I think so,” she says.

“That doesn’t count – everyone checks me out when I’m wearing those.” 

Kelsi giggles.

“And I’m sure he’ll be very attracted to your modesty,” she says. “But seriously. If you start a project to convince Chad that he wants you, you’re just going to get hurt.” She makes a quick notation on her sheet of music. “And for some weird reason, I don’t want that.”

Ryan pouts in what he hopes is at least a vaguely manly fashion.

“I could have a hissy fit,” he offers. “I do very good hissy fits.”

“I know,” Kelsi replies, patting him consolingly on the arm. “Almost as good as Sharpay’s. But it’s not going to get you Chad and it’s really too early in the week for you to spend the day sulking.”

Ryan manages a smile. Unlike certain people he could mention, he knows when to give in.

“Practise room after school?” he suggests. “I’ll teach you the Quickstep.”

~

“Going to let me in on the master plan, Shar?” Ryan asks one lunchtime, poking his straw into his milk carton and looking at her with what he hopes is some kind of innocence. 

Sharpay tilts her head to one side, pursing her carefully lipglossed mouth.

“Not sure purple sequins are your thing, Ry,” she replies simply. “We’re burning that hat the minute we get home. It mustn’t be allowed to exist any longer.”

Ryan has doubts about this trilby too, but he doesn’t appreciate Sharpay trying to distract him. Besides, he’s not sure he wants to take fashion tips from a girl wearing an ice blue feather boa with co-ordinating eyeshadow. 

“Shar,” he begins beseechingly, because everything’s out of sorts at the moment. For one thing, he can’t seem to stop staring at the angle Chad Danforth’s cheekbones make, even though he knows it’s a lost cause. He’s not exactly devastated by this knowledge… just a little bummed, and what with his pet project being sort of dead, he needs to do something with his free time other than watch his sister repaint her toenails to match her outfit (“But no one’s even going to see them! You’re not wearing peep-toed shoes!”).

“It’s not a master plan,” Sharpay informs him loftily, “It’s just a to-do list.”

“Do I feature anywhere on this list?” Ryan asks. 

“Of course.” Sharpay smiles her mega-watt white smile at him (showing off all that marvellous dental work daddy bought them for their eleventh birthday). “We have to star in the Spring Musical, and of course I need you not to do anything socially disastrous for the next…ever.”

Ryan has the sudden urge to do something socially disastrous, but reminds himself that that’s petty and that Sharpay is his sister, insensitive as she is, and he does love her in spite of her faults and the fact she keeps stealing his clothing.

He is momentarily distracted when he busses his lunch tray and notes that Chad is definitely staring at him from the jocks’ table. He has no idea why Chad would be staring at him, because, ok, the hat is kind of too sparkly and a bit hideous, but, really, he’s made worse fashion mistakes and anyway Chad wouldn’t know fashion if it came up and ripped one of those slogan t-shirts off his chest with its _teeth_.

When Chad bites his lip and turns back to listening to Troy babbling about his depressingly sincere girlfriend or his jumpshot or whatever it is uncreative people talk about at lunch, Ryan reminds himself of all the reasons why Chad Danforth is in no way attractive and is in no way an acceptable…anything. The most pressing reason is, of course, that Ryan would be unable to restrain himself concerning That Hair, and he thinks it’s pretty much a relationship-killer to take a pair of scissors to your boyfriend’s head. And if Ryan didn’t actually do it, he _knows_ Sharpay would.

“Maybe I should just go out with Blake,” he sighs later, trying to teach Kelsi the Viennese Waltz and just resulting in making them both dizzy. “I mean, ok, so I’d never be able to call him by name without sniggering, but he does have nice eyes and is very mouldable, which Shar always says is the most important trait in a boyfriend.”

Kelsi stops twirling long enough to stare blankly at him.

“You two are gonna be in _so_ much therapy one day,” she says eventually.

Ryan considers this while the music spins on without them.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “But it’ll be really _good_ therapy, and paid for with our parents’ fortune, so…” He shrugs. “It could be worse.”

Sharpay is giving herself a French manicure when he gets home, eating a bowl of carrot sticks and humming along to the _Wicked_ Broadway Cast Recording.

“I need to break up Gabriella and Troy,” Sharpay tells him matter-of-factly, offering him some of her fat-free snacks. Ryan chooses to raid the fridge instead.

“How nice for you.” Ryan finds some cheesecake, and sits down on the sideboard to eat it. “Dare I ask why?”

“Well, Troy and I _are_ the most popular people in school,” Sharpay reminds him, casually tossing her hair, “It would be much more logical if we… hooked up. Besides, I’ve got to make sure we get voted Homecoming King and Queen next year. I mean, can you _imagine_ what would happen if there was a total miscarriage of justice, and Gabriella got voted Queen? The girl has _no idea_ how to accessorise, the photos would be ruined. I _owe_ it to the entire student body to make sure I win.”

“I’m always amazed by just how selfless you are,” Ryan tells her, but Shar does sort of have a point. Sure, graduation is over a year off, but overpreparation is the key to clinching these things.

“Whatever.” Sharpay shoots him one of her patented death glares, and finishes painting the nails on her left hand. Of course they have a manicurist, but Shar tends to believe that if you want something done properly, you have to do it yourself. It’s only when she’s put the lid back on the diamond-hard topcoat that she looks at Ryan again. “Troy Bolton _will_ be mine.”

Ryan stares impassively back.

“Aren’t you forgetting the ‘mwa ha ha ha’?” he asks. “Statements like that are usually best followed up by maniacal cackling.”

Sharpay sighs.

“You can be such an unsupportive bitch sometimes,” she informs him, walking over and holding out her hands imperiously. “Blow.”

And because he loves his sister, even when she’s clearly out of her mind, Ryan obediently puts down his cheesecake and spends the next fifteen minutes blowing on Sharpay’s manicure while she lists all the ways he could be a more awesome brother, with a teasing smile on her lips.

“Will you help me?” she asks later, mascara’d eyes opened pleadingly.

“Do I have a choice?” Sharpay shakes her head. Ryan smiles. “In that case, I’d be delighted.”

~

A few days later, and Ryan is beginning to think that he’s losing his mind too, and it has got to stop because this all-consuming paranoia is interfering with his ability to co-ordinate (if Shar hadn’t caught him in time, he’d have _actually left the house_ in his lemon yellow cap, which clashes hideously with today’s sky blue shirt), and with his inner calm in general. With auditions for the Spring Musical mere weeks away, a sister determined to break up the school’s Golden Couple by any means necessary, and (currently at least), a depressing lack of social life, Ryan would like very much to cling on to what remains of his inner calm.

And having Chad eye-raping him at every available opportunity is not at all helpful.

Ryan has no one to talk to about this, because Kelsi will tell him that it’s all in his head, and Shar is a great sister in many ways but she won’t actually _care_ , and his mom will smile and call him “ducky” (or possibly “cherub”, if he’s very lucky), and suggest various types of herbal tea. Herbal tea is nice but, short of tipping it over Chad’s head, it won’t actually stop the harassment. Ryan wouldn’t mind if he thought Chad’s incessant staring was actually going to pay off in the end, but he knows that it won’t. And staring back won’t end well so he sits very still and feels Chad’s gaze practically burning through his clothes.

Kelsi is busy trying to finish one of the numbers for the Spring Musical, so Ryan is left to warm up in the dance room before she arrives. Dancing is something he’s loved ever since he was tiny; he was the only boy in the ballet class, and he and Shar were stars back when he was little enough to have long hair and it was nearly impossible to tell the difference between them. Twirling comfortably across the floor, Ryan manages to forget all about the stupid little things that are making his life awkward at the moment.

Well, almost. There’s a small glass panel in the door for some inane reason, and Ryan catches sight of Chad peering through it.

This has gone beyond a slightly irrational obsession of Danforth’s and become an utterly mad stalking situation (after all, it’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you). Ryan stops immediately and goes over to find out what Chad thinks he’s up to, breaking out into a smile as he walks because he _knew_ that there was more to this.

“You coming in?” he asks, as he pushes open the door. Chad opens his mouth, and then shuts it again. This is the closest they’ve been since Chad tied his tie for him on the night of the dance performance, Ryan’s hands were shaking with nerves, and he didn’t mistake the flush that spread across Chad’s face, he knows he didn’t, and this near he can see that Chad’s eyelashes are ridiculously long.

“I don’t dance,” Chad states firmly, something challenging and almost ugly in his expression. Ryan considers just shutting the door on him, but he can’t resist pushing. Just in case.

“You don’t dance, you don’t twinkle…” He’s flirting, he knows he is, and he watches every movement on Chad’s face because maybe, just maybe, he’ll get away with this. “What _do_ you do?”

Chad stares at him for another moment with those beautiful eyes, a smirk sort of curling the edge of his mouth, and for a lovely second or two Ryan thinks that maybe he has actually been right all along and Chad Danforth is totally willing to-

“I’ve gotta go,” Chad mutters, “Or I’ll miss my ride home. See ya.”

Oh, the _bastard_. Ryan nearly says it aloud, nearly loses it at Chad and his frustratingly mixed signals, but growing up with Sharpay has shown him how much easier it is to back down from confrontations. Instead, he practically spits out a non-committal _yeah_ , but can’t resist slamming the door behind him.

Fifteen minutes later, Kelsi comes in, wearing the flowered hat he gave her as a present after _Twinkle Towne_ finished. She’s looking pleased and smug.

“I have news,” she tells him, as Ryan puts a waltz on the CD player and walks over to begin the lesson. “About Chad.”

“Danforth’s an asshole,” Ryan replies, taking Kelsi’s hands. “We’re starting on the right foot, ok?”

Kelsi lets him lead her once around the room and he’s just trying a very pretty improvised dip when she informs him:

“Chad just came to see me and told me he was ‘interested in singing’.” 

Ryan, to his credit, does not drop her like a sack of potatoes when she dumps this on him. He straightens them both up and manages to keep the one-two-three rhythm going as he says:

“Whatever Bolton does, his pathetic little fanclub copy. Do you think the world would end if they had to start thinking for themselves?”

Kelsi gives him a glare that manages to remind him that a) she’s actually _dating_ one of Bolton’s basketball clones, and b) Ryan is not really in a position to judge, what with being Sharpay’s full-time lapdog. 

“You don’t seriously think he’s actually interested in singing, do you?” she asks. “He said he’d overheard us talking the other day-”

“Danforth is totally stalking me,” Ryan muses reflectively, “He’s either into me, or planning on murdering me and hiding my body in Bolton’s backyard.” He turns his attention back to Kelsi. “Head up. You know this one, you don’t have to watch your feet.”

“Chad can’t be interested in singing,” Kelsi says decisively, letting him dip her again, her hat falling to the floor. “I think your pet project just might work.”

“I don’t have a pet project,” Ryan reminds her, sweeping her across the room again, “You stamped on my pet project and took all the fun out of it.”

“Then get it back.” Kelsi gives him a bright smile. “I think you might actually have a shot with Chad.”

The track ends, changing to something much more sensuous. Kelsi struggles with salsa but it’s where Ryan’s heart really lies, so he interlaces her reluctant fingers with his and stares determinedly at her until she sighs and starts to step in time with him.

“Move your hips more,” he orders, moving closer. Kelsi smiles slightly.

“You’re making me uncomfortable,” she warns him, but does nonetheless.

For a whole blissful minute and a half of _Oye Como Va_ , Kelsi looks him in the eye and they just dance. In some ways, Kelsi is more fun to dance with than Sharpay; she’s not as good, but she doesn’t shriek when something goes wrong, and she doesn’t wear crippling footwear that _really_ hurts when she steps on Ryan’s foot. 

“You are going to help me, right?” Ryan asks eventually, when he can’t stand her innocent expression any longer.

Kelsi grins and he knows she’s sold, but she still replies:

“And what do I get out of it?”

“I’ll buy you a new hat,” Ryan suggests. Kelsi’s answering death glare could rival Sharpay’s, but he decides not to point this out just yet. “Or a pony!”

Kelsi remains stubbornly, pointedly silent. Ryan sighs.

“Fine, I’ll convince Shar that ballads aren’t nearly as awful as she thinks they are, so that if we’re in the next school production she won’t ruin all your songs.”

“Great.” Kelsi’s salsa footwork really is improving, Ryan thinks proudly, watching her move in time with him. “Thanks, Ry.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t just prefer a pony?” Ryan tries. Kelsi shakes her head very firmly, and Ryan watches them dance in the mirrors, hundreds of Ryans and Kelsis stretching off into the distance. When the song ends, Kelsi retrieves her hat and goes to get a drink of water. Ryan lies down on the cool wooden floor, takes a deep breath in, and wonders if this has got a hope in hell’s chance of working.

~

For some unknown reason, Sharpay’s plans have always worked better than Ryan’s. She was born plotting and scheming and determined to get her own way (she once pushed Ryan down a flight of stairs when they were six, in order to stop him beating her out of the solo in their recital. Although, that time, she did actually feel guilty about his sprained ankle, and pulled out of the recital altogether, and they spent the afternoon on the couch with popcorn and it was sort of fun. Since then, she’s got more subtle, and physical bodily harm hardly _ever_ features in her plans anymore). Unfortunately, Ryan’s plan has no points because Chad Danforth is an unknown variable.

More than that, Chad must not ever find out that he’s being manipulated. Or, since manipulation isn’t really Ryan’s forte, he must not ever catch on to the fact Ryan is scrambling desperately to find a way to force Chad into making the first move. Because that’s the only way this is going to work – if Chad stops internalising and staring and looking confused, and just damn gets on with it. Gets on with _anything_.

Chad started this, Ryan realises. He wouldn’t have thought twice – well, not more than about five times anyway – about Chad and the whole tie incident thing were it not for the fact that every time he turns around at the moment, the boy is staring at him, insistently and thoughtfully. ‘Thoughtful’ is a good look on Chad’s face (he’s certainly got the cheekbones for it), but Ryan wouldn’t even really be noticing that if it weren’t for the fact that Chad is definitely considering _something_ , and doing it in a laughably obvious fashion. Even Troy Bolton has stopped staring mushily at his pretty-but-way-too-intelligent-for-him girlfriend to inform Chad that he’s ‘acting twitchy’. Ryan bites down a smirk when he overhears that, and focuses on Sharpay telling him about her new pink glitter stilettos as though his life depends on it.

Tuesday morning and Shar has been up since four-thirty a.m. Ryan has been awake since four forty-five, and lay around in bed listening to his sister clomping around her ensuite bathroom, using her hairdryer obnoxiously loud. Sharpay’s hair has the maximum amount of bounceability, her eyelashes are curled, she’s wearing a very pretty hot pink dress with matching kitten heels, and her make-up is flawless. Ryan stumbles along beside her, feeling like one of the living dead in an outfit that he hopes matches somewhere along the line.

“I thought the Evans family never stooped to following people around,” he complains. Sharpay sighs extravagantly, as though the effort of explaining things to him is really too much this early in the morning.

“I’m not following anyone around,” she says scornfully. “I just need to go and talk to Troy, so that’s what we’re doing.”

“Can’t we just… bump into him coincidentally? Later?” Ryan suggests. 

Sharpay gets a pair of pink-tinted oversized shades out of her bag.

“Sometimes you have to make your own coincidences, Ry,” she tells him. “Come on.”

“Why do I even have to-” he begins, but Sharpay isn’t listening to him, and he obediently trails after her. 

The Wildcats, because they are crazy and have an unhealthy amount of enthusiasm, are playing baseball out on the school’s sports field. 

“Troy!” Sharpay does look good this morning, Ryan has to admit, so whatever it is she’s doing will probably pay off. Troy doesn’t exactly look enthusiastic but shrugs at his friends and walks out of the diamond to talk to her. Sometimes Ryan wonders if Sharpay got some kind of really cool supernatural powers at birth that make sure everyone in the world scampers to do her bidding; and if so, why didn’t he get them?

Sharpay widens her eyes at him, so Ryan wanders away while she talks intently to Troy. The Wildcats continue trying to play baseball, and Ryan watches them, trying not to remember how much he used to love it before he had to go one way or another, and he chose the theatre. He suspects his father never quite forgave him for that, but it’s never been said and Ryan isn’t going to be the first to bring it up.

Jason misses catching the ball and it bounces across the ground, coming to a stop by Ryan’s feet. Zeke seems pleased about this, because it gives him the opportunity to get back to the home plate, but the others don’t. Jason starts running to get the ball back, but Ryan, acting on pure muscle memory, picks it up, and throws it back to Chad, who is pitching.

It’s a perfect throw, covering the distance easily, and Chad looks so stunned that he barely remembers to reach up and catch it. The other Wildcats are staring at Ryan as though he’s grown an extra head, and he remembers that, of course, they see him merely as pink-shirts-and-manicures guy.

“Hey man, d’you play?” Jason asks. Ryan shrugs.

“I used to.” 

“Wanna fill in for Troy?” Jason offers, which strikes Ryan as completely random until he remembers that Jason is dating Kelsi and therefore probably a little more predisposed to like him than the others. It’s been years and he’d probably be awful if he tried to start playing again now, but one glance at Shar and she’s still chatting animatedly to Troy, who looks more than a little steamrollered, so maybe he should go for it.

“Sure.”

He walks across the diamond, tilting his hat back a little so he can see properly. He makes to pick up Troy’s abandoned catcher’s mitt, but Chad shakes his head, beckoning him over.

“You pitch,” he orders, putting the ball into Ryan’s hand with a warm brush of fingers that shouldn’t make Ryan’s breath catch in his chest because that’s really just too _stupid_. But Chad’s smile is pleased and slightly hesitant and Ryan closes his fingers around the ball, determined to kick ass today _whatever_ it takes.

Luckily, his body remembers exactly what to do, and sure, he may move more like he’s dancing than playing a sport, but he gets three Wildcats out in the space of about six minutes, Chad is looking at him with something like awe in his eyes, and Ryan is actually starting to enjoy himself. Which is, of course, when Sharpay chooses to release Troy from her clutches, sorry, should that be conversation, and the school’s scarily-perfect Golden Boy makes his way back onto the diamond.

Ryan surrenders the mitt and ball back to Chad with a little reluctance.

“Dude, you’re really good!” Chad is laughing, face a little flushed. “Why don’t you try out for the team?”

“When would I have the time?” Ryan points out, but Chad’s enthusiasm is kind of infectious and he finds himself grinning back. 

“You have totally got to come play with us again though,” Chad tells him. Ryan nods.

“I will.”

Sharpay waits until they’re a safe distance away before turning to Ryan and saying:

“You _like_ him, don’t you?” She doesn’t give Ryan time to defend himself, and instead continues, “God, you’re crushing on Danforth. I can’t believe you. He’s a creepily fervent _basketball player_.”

“You’re in no position to judge,” Ryan reminds her mildly, “Since you’ve actually resorted to _stalking_ Troy Bolton now.”

Sharpay waves a dismissive hand.

“Troy doesn’t count,” she tells him, “And if you want to date a basketball player, at least go for that one who’s always baking stuff-”

“Zeke,” Ryan reminds her (it’s his job to act as Sharpay’s personal rolodex, since she doesn’t seem inclined to remember people’s names).

“Whatever. At least, if you went out with him he’d be cooking you things to prove his affection, and I could eat them for you because otherwise you’d get all fat and unattractive and he’d leave you.” 

Ryan wants to protest this, but it is true that Shar has a much faster metabolism than him.

“It’s you Zeke wants to go out with,” he says, after a moment. Sharpay shrugs.

“You’re basically me with tighter pants,” she replies, “He won’t notice the difference after a while.”

Ryan isn’t entirely sure whether he should be offended or not, so he says nothing and resists the urge to look back.

~

A few days later, Ryan is channel-hopping while half-listening to Sharpay’s self-congratulating stream of consciousness.

“…And when we get into the musical, everyone will see that-”

“What?” Ryan hits the mute button on the remote, turning to look at his sister.

“Oh, I’m sure I told you, Ry. You should listen more.”

Ryan continues to look blankly at her, so she sighs and flops down beside him on the couch.

“Troy and I are going to star in the Spring Musical,” Sharpay explains in a patronising tone of voice. “He seems to be open to the idea, so I thought-”

“But what about me?” Ryan asks. He can’t believe he’s hearing this. He knows that Sharpay has difficulties with empathising and that she can be a little single-minded in her selfishness, but he never thought she’d turn around and outright stab him in the back.

“That’s right, I meant to ask you!” Sharpay grins at him, apparently pleased at remembering something. “I need you not to audition for the musical.”

Ryan can’t actually speak, but Sharpay seems to take his silence for agreement. 

“It’ll all be perfect, Ry,” she exclaims, practically glowing. Ryan forces himself to take a breath and not shout at her. 

“I’m going to bed,” he tells her shortly, tossing the remote onto the pillow beside him and going upstairs.

“Would it _hurt_ you to be pleased for me?” Sharpay shouts after him. Ryan bites his mouth together, resisting the urge to shout back.

In the morning, Ryan catches Kelsi in the music room, where she’s contentedly playing the piano, lost in her own little world. She smiles brightly enough when he walks in though.

“I might have some bad news,” she says. Ryan doesn’t think he can handle any more, but he sits down beside her anyway. “I’m beginning to think that Chad might actually be genuinely interested in singing.”

Ryan sighs. “Is he any good?”

“He’s not bad,” Kelsi replies, clearly disconcerted by the calm fashion Ryan is taking this. “I might even get him to audition for the musical.”

Normally, Ryan would let the remark go. This morning, he can’t.

“Fucking brilliant,” he snaps, and sees Kelsi visibly recoil. “Yet another Wildcat champion who’s better than me.”

He shouldn’t be taking this out on Kelsi, and he can see the hurt and confusion in her face, but Ryan just can’t stop.

“First Troy, now Chad… why do I even bother? I mean, I’m hardly the most popular guy in school, so no one cares whether I make it into the school production or not. But I do. I worked _hard_ for the Winter Musical, I looked forward to it, I practised for hours and Troy stepped in and took all that from me. And I was ok with it, because how could I not be, but Troy has his basketball and his girlfriend and his popularity, and what do I have?”

“Ryan,” Kelsi begins helplessly, but he doesn’t want her to tell him that it’s all going to be ok because he’s not sure that it _is_.

“I have the theatre, I have starring in musicals. That’s it. And it doesn’t matter how much work I try to put in because one of the Wildcats is just going to step in and take it all away and make it all worthless. And the rest of the school is going to _celebrate_ when it happens.”

“Ryan.” Kelsi is not only looking sorry, she’s also looking awkward. Ryan finally turns around.

“Guess this is a pretty bad time to ask for another singing lesson, huh?” Chad looks uncomfortable, leant against the door, but he tries a tentative smile. Ryan isn’t in the mood.

“And you,” he starts, feeling both smug and horrified as Chad takes an involuntary step backwards, “Seriously. Put out or just stop it, because the confused staring is no longer amusing.”

Ryan knows he’s overreacting, that he hasn’t slept properly and most of this can be traced back to his anger with Sharpay, but he doesn’t care. He storms out in a beautifully executed dramatic exit, leaving Chad and Kelsi speechless behind him.

~

Two periods later, and Ryan is beginning to feel slightly guilty. He _never_ gets angry at anyone, _ever_. And Kelsi really didn’t deserve him blowing up at her, especially when none of it was her fault. He knows that he has to go and apologise before it’s too late. She’s normally in the theatre even after free period finishes, so Ryan skips his next class and heads downstairs to find her.

What he’s not expecting is Chad to be late after free period workout, and therefore be running up the stairs not looking where he’s going. Ryan has absolutely no time to react before he runs full into Chad, nearly falling until the other boy catches him. There’s a moment of confusion where they both nearly tumble down the stairs and, before they even regain their balance properly, Chad’s hand finds the back of Ryan’s neck, pulls him down, and kisses him.


	3. Chapter 3

This? This whole thing is _entirely_ Michael Crawford’s fault. 

It’s impossible to grow up even slightly normal with a picture of Michael Crawford stuck inside your refrigerator. It’s really the sort of thing that can scar a boy’s mind when he’s growing up; opening the door to get something to drink after a nice long basketball practise, to find a man in an opera cape staring at him. Michael Crawford’s been in there _years_ now (Chad has unsettlingly vague memories of coming home kind of drunk after the _Twinkle Towne_ afterparty, opening the fridge – he was _starving_ for some reason – and murmuring _hey Mike, how’s it going?_ absentmindedly to the photo).

Chad is fairly certain that Ryan Evans should not be his kind of person at all, because Ryan co-ordinates all his clothes and sometimes chooses to wear make-up when he’s not onstage and knows the difference between a _plié_ and a _pas de chat_ and can sing all the words to every Broadway musical ever. These are not things Chad has ever had any interest in and they should in no way be sexy and he’s coming to the conclusion that that stupid picture in his fridge has mentally scarred him for life. He’s going to be in therapy _forever_.

Now, he is balanced awkwardly on the stairs with his tongue in Ryan’s mouth. And something is _seriously_ wrong here, because he isn’t even _trying_ to get away. 

Chad has the horrible suspicion that he kissed Ryan first. It was an accident. You know, an accident where Ryan was running down the stairs in the opposite direction and they knocked into each other and Chad grabbed Ryan so that he wouldn’t fall and for no logical reason Chad’s hand found the back of Ryan’s neck and before Chad was really aware what was happening their mouths collided. Those excellent reflexes that serve him so well on the basketball court have _betrayed_ him. 

Abruptly, Ryan pulls away. There’s shock in his eyes; almost too much, considering he was the one yelling _put out or just stop it_ this morning. Chad has no idea what he’s doing, though, so he takes a step back, then two. He’s not trying to run away, but he does need some distance.

After a minute or two of brittle silence, Chad says, “This is weird, right?”

Ryan gives him a _look_ , clearly thinking that it’s not tactful to say that sort of thing after kissing someone, especially for the first time. He’s probably got a point; but Chad is currently too freaked out to be even slightly polite.

“Weird because of the we’re-both-guys thing?” Ryan asks eventually, tone neutral, resting his back against the wall. He looks exhausted. 

“Actually, no. That part kind of explains a lot.” Chad manages a weak smile that he suspects must look kind of nuts. “No, I mean, the whole it’s-you-and-me thing.”

It shouldn’t be an issue, really, because Troy and Gabriella wrenched open the doors for whole-school _mingling_ , and no one’s really going to care if the basketball team makes one more highly unlikely link with the drama club. But it _is_ an issue, because this is _Ryan Evans_ , who owns a genuinely disturbing number of hats, who Chad has been sniping at since preschool (he suspects the most complimentary thing he’s ever said about Ryan was to call him an “over-moussed showdog”), and the two of them have been glaring pointedly at each other across classrooms for years (though, with hindsight, Chad supposes that could be counted as some extremely random flirting). If Troy did _this_ – whatever _this_ is – it would probably be ok. If Zeke did it, no one would even be surprised. But he is Chad Danforth, unwaveringly _for the team_ , mind fixed solely on sport or possibly occasionally on one of the cheerleaders, and for him to even consider Ryan Evans in a context other than mild loathing is unthinkable.

Ryan is simply standing there, looking at him. A little bit flushed, slightly disconcerted. Also, his hat matches his pants, which is just not right.

Chad gives on trying to stand, and sits down on one of the stairs. Ryan copies him, leaving enough room for a bus to pass between them. The all-consuming hush is almost suffocating.

“What do you want to do?” Ryan asks eventually, tilting his head to one side, the sunlight streaming through the windows making his hair blindingly gold. Too late, Chad remembers that Ryan isn’t having a good day – he’s _never_ seen Ryan shout before, not like that – and that he can’t be helping matters. 

“I was gonna mumble senselessly for a while, run for it, and avoid you for the next couple of days,” Chad replies, because he might as well be upfront about it. “You ok with that?”

Ryan shrugs.

“Go for it.” He looks kind of amused now, and Chad wonders if Ryan understands more about this whole situation than he does. It’s probable.

“Well,” he stands up, brushing imaginary dust from his pants with suddenly-shaky hands, “I should, uh, I mean, I’ll just be-” The helpless stammering is deeply uncool, but he can’t figure out how to make it stop. It’s too late to go to class now, but he could always hide out in the library or the bathrooms or somewhere. Whatever. The important thing is that he won’t be _here_.

Ryan really isn’t helping either, smirking with his mouth slightly red, and Chad _did that_ , and this is just so, so… _stupid_. He’s willing to bet that things like this don’t ever happen to Troy, or to Jason, or even to Zeke. _They_ didn’t grow up with pictures of musical singing people in their refrigerators, and they don’t go around inappropriately kissing their classmates! There’s gotta be a link, somewhere along the line.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Ryan prompts finally, and Chad thinks that he might have been staring. Oh God.

“Yeah. I have- yeah. Well, uh. Yeah.”

Ryan wiggles his fingers goodbye in a way that’s mildly, scarily, reminiscent of Sharpay. And Chad flees. There’s no classy way to put it. He can’t leave with any kind of manly dignity; he just runs down the stairs with his sneakers squeaking indignantly on the floor, and prays that that’s not Ryan laughing behind him.

Halfway through fourth-period math class, it occurs to Chad that awkward exits aren’t actually _supposed_ to be co-ordinated. And also that he’s gone too far and whatever happens next, he’s screwed.

Michael Crawford has a _lot_ to answer for.

~

[That night, at their weekly Ballroom Dancing class, Ryan leaves Sharpay strapping on her lucky silver shoes and informs their dance instructor that they’ll be reviewing the tango tonight. She hurries to comply in the subservient way most employees of the Evans family do – it makes Ryan feel simultaneously proud and sick. When Sharpay finally walks into the studio, and Ryan takes her hands, she sees his expression and, for once, doesn’t even _try_ to fight him for the lead.

Ryan holds his sister tightly at the waist and walks her around the floor smoothly but determinedly. The tango is exactly what he needs at the moment – he needs to feel in control of _something_ right now.]

~

The next day, at lunch, Chad gives everyone the slip (which is not exactly _hard_ , because Troy has eyes for no one but Gabriella, and Zeke is busy explaining to anyone who’ll listen that he’s really got the hang of creating the caramelised top on the crème brulée, so no one will actually notice he’s not there), wanders the corridors for a while in a way that he _hopes_ doesn’t look too suspicious, and ends up in the theatre. Because it’s not like that’s _completely out of character_ for him or anything (oh God oh God what is he _doing_?). Thankfully, Sharpay and Ryan are rehearsing onstage for something, so everyone’s too busy watching them dance to notice Chad creeping in at the back. Which is definitely a good thing, since he’s not entirely certain what he’s doing here, and the less of an audience he has while making an idiot of himself, the better. Besides, everyone’s watching the rehearsals, maybe he could just sneak back out and –

Ryan looks up for just a moment, sees Chad, and stumbles.

That’s actually slightly terrifying. Chad has never exactly gone out of his way to watch Ryan dance (at least not until recently, anyway, and he’s not thinking about _that_ ), but he’s gone to school with the guy for long enough that he’s seen bits and pieces of the Evans twins’ disturbingly competent dancing. None of which ever involved any kind of tripping or mis-stepping or anything. Which means this is probably his fault (again).

_One accidental kiss, and you broke the guy. Nice going, Danforth._

Suppressing the urge to curl up somewhere incredibly small and whimper until this all goes away and he goes back to wanting to date Taylor or at least spend several weeks flirting with someone who is mildly _female_ , Chad ducks out of sight behind the back wall, and listens to Sharpay yelling at Ryan. And Ryan actually yelling back at Sharpay, something about her being a control freak and how she can damn well dance on her own. Then there’s a sound like someone is storming off the stage. Chad presses his face into his palms and seriously considers just going back to the cafeteria and listening to Zeke babble about various types of pudding.

“This isn’t avoiding me, you know,” Ryan informs him a moment later, voice low so that Sharpay won’t pick up on where he is. “In fact, I think this actually counts as _stalking_.”

“I’m not stalking you!” Chad hisses, slightly panicked.

“Well, you’re definitely not avoiding me.” Everything about Ryan today is smothered in pinstripes, from his hat to his pants, and it’s making Chad’s eyes go slightly funny. “I seem to remember you announcing, in a kind of deranged fashion, that you’d be avoiding me for the next couple of days.”

“Yeah, about that…” Chad has no idea what to say, because he didn’t plan this part. Or any of it. “I don’t want to. Avoid you, I mean. I did some thinking.”

By ‘some thinking’, of course, he means that he stayed up till three a.m trying to make some sense of what he wanted, but Ryan really doesn’t need to know that. 

“And…” Ryan raises an eyebrow, folding his arms across his (pinstriped) chest.

“And what?” Chad is starting to feel like he’s been forced into a play where he doesn’t know any of the lines and everyone’s glaring at him for missing the cues he didn’t know existed in the first place. Which is a stupid metaphor because he hasn’t ever been in a play since that nativity one in preschool (and even then he messed up his one and only line).

“And what does the not-wanting-to-avoid-me mean, exactly?” Ryan asks suspiciously. 

“I… hadn’t figured that part out yet, actually.” Chad realises that he hasn’t thought any of this through. But it might just be ok, because he never thinks things through and yet somehow he’s managed to both get on the basketball team and not flunk out of high school.

Ryan has his head on one side and is staring at Chad somewhat critically.

“I don’t know whether to find your uncontrollable confusion endearing or horrifying,” he admits.

“… I think I might be stalking you,” Chad replies slightly helplessly. “A little bit.”

Ryan considers this for a moment, and apparently reaches a decision.

“Don’t freak out on me this time,” he says quietly, and then he’s cupping Chad’s face in his hands and pushing him back against the brickwork.

Chad obediently behaves himself, and keeps quiet.

~

A week later, they talk in whispers in the back row of the theatre, crouched down on the floor with their backs pressed against the seats. Sure, the chances are someone is going to come back here any minute and ask just why the co-president of the drama club and the school’s second favourite hoops dude are hiding down there eating cookies (though it’s actually pretty simple: the cookies are there because of Zeke, and they’re in the theatre because it’s not like there’s anywhere else to go). It’s true, that someone might hear them; but Sharpay is bossing around a bunch of her fanclub and no one’s going to hear anything over the size of her ego.

“These are really good,” Ryan mumbles thoughtfully, brushing crumbs off his shirt. “You know, Shar told me to go out with Zeke because of the whole baking thing. Maybe I should’ve listened to her.”

Chad thinks about this. 

“I gave you cookies anyway,” he points out.

“And I couldn’t be happier if you’d actually made them yourself,” Ryan replies, smirking. “Keep providing the desserts, and this might just work out after all.”

Chad sighs, leaning his head back. He has eaten too many sugar cookies and his brain kind of feels like it’s falling into little pieces of desiccated coconut. He should be in the cafeteria right now, avoiding looking at Troy and Gabriella feeding each other brownies and giggling, trying not to make eye contact with Taylor, attempting to make sense of Zeke’s excited monologues on corn starch, and… on second thoughts, it’s probably better here. More cramped, but pretty much better.

“Whatever ‘this’ is,” he murmurs, like it matters, which it doesn’t. It really, _really_ doesn’t. All they’ve had is a week of making out in inappropriate places, and it’s fun, and Chad doesn’t want or need anything else. Seriously.

Ryan shrugs, still sucking the last vestiges of cookie from his fingers. Chad wonders if he should be worried about the fact that Ryan seems more interested in the food than he is in Chad actually _talking to him_. And Chad can’t help it; he wants some kind of certainty, something that’s slightly defined in his life at the moment. 

“Dude,” he says, and Ryan turns to look at him this time, which is a start. “This is weird. I mean, this whole year – totally weird. Troy sings now, and I’ve put on like four pounds from all Zeke’s cooking, and Taylor won’t even _talk_ to me, and- and I kind of wanna kiss you, like, all the time, which is just _not normal_.”

Ryan just stares at him for a moment.

“…Because I’m a glitter-wearing drama freak?”

“Because you’re a glitter-wearing drama freak,” Chad agrees. 

Ryan laughs. 

“If it helps, you’re not really my type either.”

Chad raises an eyebrow.

“How could I _not_ be? I mean, I’m hot, I’m athletic…”

“And so very, very modest,” Ryan adds. His lips taste like sugar when he kisses Chad, and Chad momentarily wonders what Zeke actually _thought_ when Chad grabbed half a Tupperware box of cookies, mumbled something nonsensical, and ran out the cafeteria. He knows that his friends are starting to think he’s developed a personality disorder of some kind, but he’s not entirely sure what to tell them. Not yet. 

They’re interrupted by the sound of someone pointedly clearing their throat. Chad turns his head to see Sharpay Evans standing, hands on the hips of a pair of really, really well fitting black jeans, and glaring her Totally Terrifying Death Glare down at the two of them. Chad quickly drops his gaze to the floor, and is nearly blinded by the lights reflecting off Sharpay’s gold sequinned stilettos (he finds himself trying to figure out if he’s ever actually admired a girl’s shoes before, and then if there’s something indefinable about Ryan that’s actually _infectious_ ). 

It occurs to Chad that Sharpay could pretty much out him to the _entire school_ in the next few seconds, and there is nothing he can do about it.

Sharpay sighs. “Honestly, Ry, you have the worse taste in men,” she says in an undertone, but she doesn’t start shrieking so Chad decides not to try and defend himself. She adds: “Come on, I _need_ you. These guys have no sense of rhythm at _all_ , it’s just _awful_.”

And she goes clicking back up the aisle. It takes Chad a moment to process what just happened.

“Dude, was your sister just, like, _nice_ to you?” 

Ryan retrieves his fuchsia hat from where it’s fallen on the floor, and angles it carefully on his only-slightly-mussed hair.

“She does that sometimes,” he murmurs distractedly. 

“Does it make you nervous?” Chad asks. 

“Every time,” Ryan grins.

~

“Hey Chad,” Kelsi says when he walks into the practise room during free period, but she doesn’t look up from the sheet music spread out on the piano lid. She’s wearing a glittery blue hat that Ryan probably gave her, and tapping the end of a pencil thoughtfully against her chin.

“If you’re busy, I can come back,” he tells her.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Kelsi looks up and offers him one of her sunny smiles, “I’m just trying to crack this song.”

Chad joins her and looks at music too. 

“‘You Find The Lyrics In Me’,” he reads.

“I want it to be the big finale for the Spring Musical,” Kelsi explains. “Though, you know, I don’t know what key to put it in yet, since the main parts haven’t been cast.”

“I guess it’ll be Ryan and Sharpay,” Chad says, and then experiences a minor mental freakout, because, well, is he expected to _go_ to the musical now? Does he have to take flowers? Pretend that he gives a damn about theatre? Get on with Sharpay?

“Ryan’s not in the musical this year,” Kelsi murmurs, attention still fixed on her song. “He’s taking part in an amateur production at a local theatre.”

Ryan hasn’t mentioned this to Chad, but then Chad pretty much spends time with Ryan doing things that do not involve talking at all, so he’s not entirely surprised.

“Why?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” Kelsi looks faintly worried, tapping the end of her pencil on the piano lid. “I don’t think it’s anything good. Ryan a nice guy, but he has this awful inability to say ‘no’ to Sharpay.”

Chad doesn’t share her paranoia. For one thing, he can’t figure out how splitting up the Evans Twins Dreamteam would actually _help_ Sharpay. 

“What’s wrong with the song?” he asks in an attempt to distract Kelsi from her prophesies of doom. 

“I’m not sure,” she replies. “I’m just not happy with it.”

Six months ago, Chad would totally have run away from the tiny little drama girl in the blue hat. Now, he just turns to Kelsi and tells her to play the song for him.

“ _I wanna sing this song, ‘cause I know we belong – yeah, you find the lyrics in me…_ ”

When she’s finished, Chad tells her that her title line sucks.

“It’s too complicated. Don’t have ‘You Find’, have, I dunno, ‘You Are’. Something like that.”

Kelsi presses her mouth together, frowning. 

“You Are The Music In Me,” she says, slowly. And then a smile spreads across her face and she gets up from the piano to hug Chad, before hurrying back, and crossing out certain lyrics on the page, changing things around. It’s not long before she beckons him round to sit beside her on the piano bench.

“I need to test it,” she explains. “Help me?”

Chad can barely read music and he isn’t entirely sure why he’s kept up the singing classes, since he’s whatever-ing with Ryan now, and he was never really into musicals to begin with, but he shrugs and says he’ll do his best.

“ _When I hear my favourite song, I know that we belong: you are the music in me…_ ”

By the time they reach the last chorus, Chad gets up and pulls Kelsi away from the piano, abruptly cutting off their backing music, the two of them dancing and half-laughing and trying to keep singing, stumbling over the words. Which is about the time Taylor walks in.

For some totally nuts reason, Chad’s brain starts panicking. He doesn’t want Taylor to tell everyone and to have them all think that he and Kelsi are… you know, ‘cause Jason would _kill_ him, and Taylor might get the wrong idea about why they broke up, and-

“I’m gay!” he blurts out, before his mind catches up with his mouth.

Kelsi sits back down on the piano bench, and puts her head in her hands. 

“I’m not here,” she mumbles. “I am not involved in this stupid situation.”

Taylor shuts the door and leans against it.

“I was just gonna ask Kelsi if she wanted to come over to Gabi’s tonight,” she says, “But I guess we could do this instead.”

“I didn’t mean to just say that,” Chad says very softly, leaning back against the piano because he thinks he might fall over otherwise. 

“I didn’t think you did,” Taylor agrees. “I could leave you to die of embarrassment if you like. I’ve got a study group to get back to.”

“I’m really sorry,” Chad tells her earnestly. “This wasn’t supposed to…” He trails off.

“Well, it explains a lot,” Taylor says thoughtfully. “I can’t believe I didn’t work it out earlier.”

“It wasn’t _that_ obvious,” Chad protests. “…Was it?” 

“We never kissed,” Taylor reminds him. “I was dropping hints and making opportunities for about four months, and you remained hopelessly oblivious. I thought it was just ‘cause you’re a potentially braindead basketball guy…”

“Hey,” Chad murmurs feebly.

“Well, I feel better now, anyway.” Taylor gives him a bright smile and stops looking like she wants to run for her life. “So…”

She’s suddenly got that expression she gets when she and Gabriella are giggling in corners and Chad realises that Taylor wants to have some form of messed-up _girltalk_ with him. He’s so freaked out by this that he can’t actually speak. 

“He’s doing something that involves Ryan,” Kelsi provides helpfully from behind him.

Chad almost loves her for that. She doesn’t say ‘dating’ (which is good because they’re really _not_ ), but she doesn’t say ‘making out in random places all over the school’ (which is, you know, _right_ but makes him sound kind of… slutty).

“Ryan _Evans_?” Taylor asks, like there are millions of other Ryans at East High. 

“You got a problem with that?” Chad asks, and it comes out more angrily than he means it to.

Taylor laughs. “No, I’m just wondering how you managed to bag such a _hottie_.”

Kelsi giggles from behind him. Chad feels distinctly outnumbered, so doesn’t even try and defend himself.

“I’m really happy for you,” Taylor smiles, coming over to give him a hug. And the funny thing is, Chad thinks, she probably genuinely _is_. “I gotta go,” she adds, “Those equations won’t balance themselves.”

“Have fun with that,” Chad tells her. “And, um, thanks.”

When the door closes, he turns to Kelsi.

“Ryan _does not_ find out about this,” he says. “Please?”

Kelsi gives him a surprisingly wicked smile.

“Thanks for the help with the song,” is all she says.

~

The really random part is how no one has actually noticed. Well, Troy mentioned that he seemed less twitchy a couple of days ago, and Chad shrugged and claimed that he hadn’t been twitchy at all in the first place and then brought up Gabriella to make sure that Troy would forget all about it. But seriously, the whole school must be _blind_ or whatever because it’s not like they’re being really subtle or anything. Though the sixth time Chad finds himself catching Ryan’s eye in math class and biting his lip to keep from grinning like an idiot, he suddenly remembers Troy and Gabriella staring at each other across rooms, nodding their heads to an invisible beat, and looking pretty stupid while they were at it.

“We’re not like that, are we?” he asks Ryan later, when they’re alone in the gym (if Coach Bolton has noticed that “I’ll stay on my own after practise to work on some free throws” is a euphemism, he’s thankfully never mentioned it). “Because if we are this is stopping right now.”

Ryan is currently standing on his head, because he is insane. Or doing yoga. One of the two, anyway.

“We’re not like that,” he confirms quietly, not even bothering to open his eyes. “My sister would already have kicked my ass about it if we were.”

He’s on one of the mats kept in storage for when they’re all forced into doing gymnastics, while Chad dribbles his basketball up and down the court, trying to work off some restless energy. 

“What’s with the yoga anyway?” he asks, shooting and watching the ball swish perfectly through the net.

“It’s good for relaxation,” Ryan replies, lowering his legs and sitting upright again. “Believe me, living with Sharpay, I need all the relaxation I can get.”

Chad laughs, coming to sit beside Ryan on the mat, tugging off his sneakers as he does so. 

“Show me,” he orders, poking Ryan’s knee.

“You won’t get it,” Ryan murmurs doubtfully, but he crosses his legs and Chad copies him. Ryan tells him something about breathing and something else but Chad isn’t really listening and then he closes his eyes. It’s very quiet in the gym and he’s horribly aware of Ryan breathing slowly beside him and his legs are starting to cramp because he’s not used to sitting like this.

“This is boring,” he announces, opening his eyes. Ryan is grinning at him.

“Told you so.”

“Smartass.” Chad leans companionably against Ryan, laughing, but stops abruptly as Ryan turns his head and they’re so close together now that Chad can’t resist leaning in for a kiss.

Sometime later, when Ryan’s hand is surprisingly cold on Chad’s back and Chad has Ryan’s lower lip caught between his teeth, someone clears their throat. Chad pulls quickly away and looks up at the amused expression on Coach Bolton’s face.

“Jesus,” he murmurs. “Mr Bolton, sir, I can- I can totally explain.”

“It’s pretty self-explanatory, actually, Chad, but thanks for the offer anyway.” Troy’s dad looks like he wants to burst out laughing, but at least he doesn’t look like he’s about to kick Chad off the team for gross indecency in the gym. “Hi, Ryan.”

“Hi, Mr Bolton.” Ryan’s eyes are a little wide but he seems pretty relaxed considering (maybe that yoga stuff does work after all). “Sorry for interrupting – I know it’s a closed practise.”

“No problem; just don’t make a habit of it.” Coach Bolton smirks and offers Ryan a hand to his feet. Chad stares between the two of them and wonders vaguely if everyone else in the world has gone nuts; or if he has and he just hasn’t noticed it yet. He scrambles awkwardly to his feet.

“Uh… Mr Bolton?”

Their coach stops praising Ryan’s dancing in _Twinkle Towne_ and turns back to Chad.

“The thing is, uh, like, we were trying to, uh…” He trails off and wonders why they’re looking at him like _he’s_ the crazy one. “Troy. Cannot. Know,” he finishes, slightly panicked.

“You should probably tell him sometime,” Bolton suggests blandly, but this is one time in his life when Chad does not want any advice. _At all_. Their coach has this weirdly disturbing little smile on his face, kind of like the one he gets whenever he catches Troy daydreaming about Gabriella, but all he says is:

“Boys, don’t be too much longer – I’ve gotta lock up, you know?”

When he’s gone, Chad sinks to the floor, head in hands, groaning.

“Tell me that didn’t just happen.”

“It could have been worse,” Ryan suggests. “I mean, he seemed to be ok with-”

“No, no, no, you don’t get it!” Chad thinks he might actually be a little hysterical (and he thought Ryan was supposed to be the drama queen here? Whatever). “I’ve known him since I was, like, _four_. It’s like having your parents walk in.” He groans again.

Ryan starts laughing, really laughing. It’s not the reaction Chad wants from him, but somehow he can’t resent Ryan’s amusement the way he would if it were anyone else.

“You should probably tell Troy sometime, though,” Ryan says, when he’s calmed down a little. “I mean, just as a suggestion.” He looks at his wristwatch (which Chad thinks probably cost a truly obnoxious amount). “Gotta go, or I’ll be late for my vocal coach.”

And then he’s hurrying out the gym. Chad stays sitting on the floor because he’s not sure that he wants to get up just yet.

~

When he eventually does tell Troy, he does it in such a stupid way he’s a little ashamed of himself. What with Chad spending most of his free time sneaking off with Ryan, or hanging out with Kelsi, and Troy being with Gabriella, they’ve been hanging out less and less. Chad remembers this from time to time and he realises that he seriously does _miss_ his best buddy.

“Hey man,” he says, dropping an easy arm around Troy’s shoulders. The halls are full of people running to class and Troy’s getting his chemistry books out of his locker.

“Hey dude,” Troy replies with a grin. “How are you? We never see each other any more…”

But he’s looking down the hall as he says it and Chad gets the feeling that he’s looking for Gabriella. Because she’s always more important. Whatever. Some kind of petty determination takes him over and he says:

“Yeah, I’m ok. I’m taking singing lessons now, for some like, totally random reason. I know, it’s so weird. Oh, and I was kinda having a sexual identity crisis for a while, but I figured it would just be quicker to stop worrying and go with it. So now I have an almost boyfriend who is, by the way, totally _hot_ , even though his hats match his underwear – you don’t wanna know how I found that out, actually – but you know, I can seriously overlook that. And Kelsi and Taylor and Sharpay and your dad all know, so I guess I should tell you.” He catches sight of Taylor over the other side of the hall. “Hey, I’m late for class. Well, see ya later dude.”

And he jogs over to join Taylor. Chad isn’t sure how much Troy heard, but he’s breathing too hard and his heart is going a mile a minute in his chest anyway. 

“You don’t look good,” Taylor observes.

“I think I just outed myself to Troy, who probably wasn’t even listening,” Chad explains a little helplessly. “And I think I did it even more tactlessly than I did with you.”

Taylor shakes her head.

“You poor boy. I think I’ll make you a powerpoint presentation that you can just show your friends and save on awkwardness all round.”

It’s then that Troy calls after him. Chad knows he should turn back and talk to his friend and find out just what Troy got out of his slightly crazy ranting, but he doesn’t want to deal with right now, so he just keeps walking.

After chemistry, though, Troy waylays him. 

“We have to talk,” he says, but he puts a hand on Chad’s shoulder so he’s obviously not completely freaked out. Chad goes over to Troy’s after school, and they wind up shooting a few hoops out back, because talking is altogether too complicated and _girly_ for them, even after all these years.

“I think you need to tell me what’s going on with you,” Troy says, “And properly.”

Chad thinks about what he’s going to say, stealing the ball from Troy and executing a perfect shot.

“I’m not-dating Ryan Evans,” he says carefully.

“I know,” Troy replies, and Chad is about to turn around and ask when he realises that Troy’s misunderstood him. Or possibly just misunderstood the madness that is Chad’s current love life, which is, you know, not exactly _hard_.

“No, I mean, I’m _not-dating_ Ryan,” he explains, putting stresses on the words so Troy will understand. He watches comprehension break over his friend’s face, resisting the urge to turn and run so he doesn’t have to talk about this.

“Holy shit.” Troy stares at him, but he’s not shouting _get off my basketball court you freaky little faggot_ so Chad assumes it’s going to be ok.

“Yeah man, you said it.” Chad manages a laugh that sounds very almost normal, and moves to retrieve the ball. “I’m trying new things, broadening my horizons. You know, just like your singing thing. Except, you know, without the singing. Or the musical. Or the girl.”

Troy considers this, automatically marking Chad and trying to take the ball back.

“So, nothing at all like my singing thing.”

“Exactly.”

They both laugh then, and Chad feels better, because somewhere along the line Troy will always be his best friend, and be there for him (eventually, anyway).

“So, you really don’t mind?” Chad asks later, when they’ve given up playing ball and are sitting on the court drinking cans of soda.

“Dude, it’s your life. Why would I mind?” Troy looks genuinely puzzled. 

“No, I mean about… Ryan.” Chad knows Ryan isn’t in any way popular with the Wildcats (hell, a few months ago _he_ was judging Ryan solely on his colour co-ordinated clothing, and muttering behind the other boy’s back). “I mean, I know you aren’t exactly crazy about the Evans family…”

Troy flushes. 

“Look,” he begins almost hesitantly, “I wasn’t gonna say anything until I’d talked it over with Gabi, but…” He bites his lower lip for a moment. “I’m thinking about doing the Spring Musical with Sharpay.”

“Dude.” Chad stares at him. “She’ll eat you _alive_.”

“She’s not so bad.” Troy looks massively uncomfortable. “I mean, ok, she can kinda scary sometimes-”

“Scary doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Chad points out. Troy ignores him.

“-But, you know, she’s not so bad when she’s not surrounded by her lackeys. And Gabi really doesn’t want to do the Spring Musical, but I kind of miss it, and Ryan’s not in the musical anyway, so…”

Troy is rambling awkwardly. Chad takes this as a sign that the guy’s head is on the point of melting with anxiety, so he takes pity on him.

“Hey man, if it’s what you want to do, then go for it. I mean, Sharpay will probably kill you with a pair of stilettos during rehearsals, and she might even force you to wear something with rhinestones on it, but if you’re down with that then go ahead.”

Troy gives him a grateful smile. He still seems to be thinking about something, though, so Chad asks him what the problem is.

“Well…” Troy turns to look at him. “What did you mean earlier when you said that my dad knows about you and Ryan?”

“Oh. That. Well, uh, it’s kind of a totally-not-funny story, actually…”

~

It gets round the school in about ten minutes on Thursday morning that Troy Bolton is planning on auditioning for the musical with Sharpay Evans. The rumours are getting steadily more juicy, much to Chad, Zeke and Jason’s amusement, though they seem to be the only ones seeing the funny side. Sharpay snaps at anyone who tries to get near her, and Troy and Gabriella are clinging to each other’s hands in a desperate attempt to look completely and utterly unified.

“Is the whole school convinced I’m having some sort of freaky affair with my sister?” Ryan asks during free period, when he and Chad are hiding out in one of the practise rooms.

“Could you say anything _less_ sexy?” Chad asks incredulously. “But yeah, pretty much.”

“Oh.” Ryan actually takes his silver trilby off, clearly worried by this news. “Well, that definitely explains some of the questions I’ve been asked today, anyway.”

Chad laughs, pressing his face into Ryan’s shoulder.

“Mood-breaker,” he mumbles.

“Hey,” Ryan begins sort of hesitantly, “I don’t know if Troy’s told you, but he’s meant to be coming over to our house this Sunday so that Sharpay can torment him and call it ‘rehearsing’, but I don’t want to be around while she shrieks at him and changes outfits every two hours, so…” He takes a breath. “I was wondering if you wanted to do something.”

“Like… a date?” Chad asks. 

“No, I was thinking maybe we could hang out somewhere and pick up chicks,” Ryan says dryly. “I just thought maybe you wanted to catch a movie or something. I mean, it’s cool if you don’t.”

Chad is freaking out. Again. He’s getting sick of being terrified of every single aspect of this very-nearly-relationship, but he can’t seem to stop himself, and the idea of going out _in public_ with Ryan and maybe being seen and-

“I’m busy,” he says, before he can stop himself. “There’s this thing I promised my mom I’d help out with, and-”

“It’s cool,” Ryan cuts him off, but his smile is a little too fixed and guilt hits Chad hard in the chest. They sit in awkward silence for a moment, before Ryan’s cell goes off. When he answers, Chad can hear Sharpay screaming down the line. Ryan turns to him. “Shar’s having some sort of crisis. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

He walks out so quickly he leaves his trilby behind. Chad picks it up and walks out too, turning the hat over and over in his hands. 

Ryan isn’t ignoring him but he doesn’t look directly at him all day. The whispers and rumours aren’t nearly as funny any more, and Chad comes to the conclusion by the last period (well, after he sort of talked to Taylor at lunch and she shouted at him that he’s an idiot, has playing all that basketball killed off his brain cells, she knew he was insensitive but she didn’t know he was emotionally deficient, and so on) that he needs to apologise to Ryan.

“Ok,” he says, catching up to Ryan in the theatre, where Sharpay is bossing around a group of terrified-looking freshmen in tights. “Let’s do it.”

Ryan turns to look at him. “Unfortunately, I don’t have my sister’s supernatural powers just yet, so I can’t read your mind. What?”

“Let’s go out on Sunday,” Chad tells him. “Go see a movie, grab a pizza, whatever. We should do it.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Chad smiles. “But you can pay.”

“That’s not very gentlemanly,” Ryan points out, but he’s laughing as he says it.

“Dude, I’m saving up every cent I’ve got for a car,” Chad tells him. “Your parents own, like, a few small countries and have shares in the moon or whatever, so you can totally cover some popcorn.”

Ryan looks like he wants to protest the generalisation for a minute, but gives up.

“Ok.”

“And I’m not holding your hand.”

“I don’t think I even mentioned that,” Ryan says, but he looks so happy that Chad can’t bring himself to be too uncertain about this.

By Sunday, of course, he’s petrified, trying on every single t-shirt he owns (which takes an unreasonably long time; he probably should’ve realised he wasn’t entirely straight a _long_ time ago) and pacing in an increasingly desperate fashion. By the time Ryan comes to pick him up, Chad is seriously considering just hiding and pretending not to be in. But he trails downstairs anyway, grateful that his mom is out for the day, and pulls open the door.

Ryan is wearing a pair of skinny dark blue jeans that fit _incredibly_ well, and a sky blue shirt. He looks… wow. Chad says a jumble of syllables to that effect and Ryan grins, looking pleased with himself.

It isn’t intimidating in the end; they go to the cinema and sit up the back and it occurs to Chad afterwards that he can’t actually remember the majority of the movie because Ryan’s hand was on his thigh and his lips tasted like popcorn, but it’s ok ‘cause it’s not like it was all that interesting to begin with. 

Later, they’re sharing a pizza when Ryan’s cellphone goes off. He looks at the screen and grimaces. 

“Be back in a minute,” he says, walking away from their table to answer. Chad tries to listen in to the call but all he can hear are a few incomprehensible things about _hair_ and _compromises_.

“Look, just call the emergency stylist,” Ryan says. “Deal with the problem by removing it _completely_.”

When he comes back to the table, he says: “Shar was having a hair crisis. She has like four a week, but I think this one’s averted.”

“Your life is so screwed-up and random,” Chad says with feeling. 

Ryan just laughs, his knee pressed against Chad’s underneath the table.

~

“It’s not so bad,” Gabriella offers, kind of helplessly.

“It _really_ is,” Zeke says. “I mean, seriously, dude, what were you _thinking_?”

Troy has his head in his hands.

“I couldn’t stop her,” he says in a broken little voice.

The Wildcats are sitting out on the bleachers, since it’s such a beautiful day. Chad can see the rest of the athletics team down on the track, but he can’t go join them. Not yet. 

“How hard is it to tell a girl that you don’t want most of your hair cut off?” Chad asks. Taylor and Gabriella send him you’re-being-insensitive looks, but he ignores them.

“She was just _talking_ , and then there was this guy who said he was a stylist, and then, you know…” Troy trails off. He doesn’t even look like Troy anymore, without his shaggy hair in his eyes. It’s shorter and there are highlights and _Sharpay_ did this to him.

“You should have a restraining order put on her,” Chad suggests darkly. 

“My mom’s a lawyer,” Jason offers, “You could totally sue her.”

“Might make auditioning for the musical a bit awkward,” Troy says with a shaky laugh, raising his head. 

“You’re still going to work with her?” Zeke looks stunned. “Dude, she _cut your hair off_.” 

“I said I would.” Troy looks uncomfortable. “I mean, I’ve put in the work, I should go through with it.”

The others look distinctly dubious. Troy looks to Gabriella for support; she gives him a weak smile and squeezes his hand.

The first chance he gets, Chad goes to hunt down Ryan.

“Your crazy control-freak sister had Troy’s hair cut off!” he hisses. “I mean, what the fuck is she on? And how could you _let her_?”

“I swear, I had no idea.” Ryan holds his hands up, a gesture of surrender. “I was out with you all day, remember?”

“Yeah.” Chad refuses to be distracted. “But seriously, man – tell Sharpay to _back off_.”

“You think she’s gonna listen to me?” Ryan points out. “Anyway, I’m sure she just thought it would look better for the role. Hair grows back, right?”

Ryan’s right. Hair does grow back and Troy will get tired of Sharpay and her demands and everything’s going to be ok and go back to normal. 

Except that it doesn’t stop there.

~

They’re all in the theatre for Troy and Sharpay’s audition. Kelsi looks distinctly uneasy when she sits down at the piano, shuffling the sheet music awkwardly and biting her lips together. Chad is sat between Taylor and Jason. No one’s asked him why he’s suddenly friends with Taylor again, and Chad isn’t ever going to explain. Gabriella is on Taylor’s other side, and she looks really miserable.

“Hey, Gabi, if you’re not cool with this-” Chad begins.

“Look how happy he is,” Gabriella interrupts, gesturing to the stage, where Troy and Sharpay are giving Kelsi some last-minute instructions. “I mean, who am I to stop him?”

Chad makes a mental note to tell Troy to pay more attention to his girlfriend in the future, but then Kelsi’s playing the opening notes and they all quieten down. Chad recognises the song after a moment; Troy and Sharpay are singing _You Are The Music In Me_. And they’re good. They’re really, _really_ good: they sound totally professional, and their voices blend perfectly together. It’s different to when they heard Troy and Gabriella sing – there’s none of the raw affection and sweetness in their voices, and it makes Chad’s chest hurt to listen in a way he doesn’t understand. Gabriella is gripping Taylor’s arm so hard it’s got to hurt, and Taylor has a dark, anxious look on her face.

Ryan, three rows ahead of them, gets up and leaves before the end of the song. Chad stays long enough to force out some applause, and then runs in the direction he saw Ryan go in. He eventually tracks down the other boy in a dark props closet.

“Go away,” Ryan hisses. “I don’t want to talk to you at the moment.”

“It’s me,” Chad provides, because he’s pretty sure Ryan has no reason to want to avoid him.

“Oh.” Ryan’s breathing sounds too loud and sort of damp around the edges.

“Dude, are you _crying_?” Chad asks.

“ _Please_.” Ryan laughs, but his voice is trembling. Chad reaches for the lightswitch and Ryan’s voice becomes cold. “You turn that light on, and I out you to the whole school by lunchtime.”

“Jesus,” Chad says, closing the door behind him and hoping he doesn’t break his neck tripping over something. “What’s the matter, man?” 

“Sorry,” Ryan mumbles miserably. “I didn’t mean that.”

It hits Chad blindingly hard.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” He sits down on the floor, hopefully somewhere near where Ryan is. 

“A little.” Ryan tries to laugh again but it sounds horribly like a sob.

“You _are_ crying,” Chad says, and it manages to come out accusing. 

“Evans’ don’t cry,” Ryan murmurs a little too forcibly. He takes a shaky breath. “Shit.”

“If you wanted to be part of the musical…” Chad begins.

“If I’m serious about going into theatre,” Ryan tells him, “I’ve got to do something outside the school environment. And away from my sister.”

It sounds plausible. Chad believes it. He hopes Ryan does.

“But you’re still crying in a closet because Sharpay sounds really good when she sings with someone else.”

“Yeah.” Ryan sighs. “I am. I don’t know. I’ll get over it. I think I’m just feeling a bit alone at the moment.”

“You’ve got me,” Chad offers. And for once, he isn’t terrified about the permanence (or semi-permanence, or whatever this is at the moment).

“Thank you,” Ryan whispers.

Chad sits in the dark for a while, and listens to Ryan pretending that he’s not losing control.

~

Within a week after the final cast list is announced, Troy starts sitting at the drama club’s table at lunchtime and hanging about in the theatre during free period. He misses free period workout three times in a row, until his dad completely loses it at him. Chad tries to persuade the rest of the team to practise their passes, like they can’t hear Troy shouting at his father outside the gym doors. Something about what _really_ matters, how they’ve won the Championship, what more does he _want_ ; the words sound wrong coming from Troy and in the end they all stop even pretending to play, and just stand, silent, horrified.

A couple of days after that, and Troy starts turning up in a whole new colour co-ordinated wardrobe. Gabriella’s smile is becoming increasingly fixed, though Troy is still holding hands with her in the halls and sitting next to her in every class. There’s something strained between them, Chad can tell just from watching. And then, of course, Troy goes off with Sharpay for hours at a time, rehearsing and hanging out (and apparently clothes shopping – Chad would ask his friend what he thinks he’s doing, but his friendship with Troy isn’t exactly stable right now), and there’s no space for any of them any more.

He’s sharing a pizza with Ryan one afternoon (“Oh go on, let me put glitter mascara on you, you’d look so cute!” “You’d make me blind. I don’t think there’s much call for one-eyed basketball players…” “I could make you an eyepatch! With a little rhinestone ‘W’ for ‘Wildcats’!” “Dude…”) when something occurs to him.

“How long have we been dating without me noticing?” Chad asks. “I mean, I didn’t think we were, but…”

“I was sort of hoping you wouldn’t pick up on it until it was too late for you to mind,” Ryan tells him, smiling.

“Oh, man,” Chad laughs, pressing his face into his hand, “This is nuts.”

“But nice?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty nice.”

[This is the last time Chad feels truly happy for a good while.]

Troy misses the next three team practises, finally arriving late for the fourth. Coach Bolton’s face is set and determined and he practically drags Troy outside. Chad can’t bring himself to look at the rest of the team, as they hear perfectly clearly how Troy doesn’t want to waste his time with _some shitty little high school team_ ; that he can probably get a scholarship for U of A and start playing some serious game. For some insane reason, Chad gets a lump in his throat, hearing the tone of his best friend’s voice.

“If that’s the way you feel, then you’re off the team. Go change, and don’t bother to come back.” Coach Bolton sounds almost too calm, and when he walks back in the gym he heads straight for Chad.

“Congratulations, you’re Team Captain,” he says, clapping Chad on the shoulder.

“Sir, I-” Chad begins awkwardly, but what can he say? “Thank you,” he murmurs.

“We’ll finish this practise tomorrow,” Bolton says shortly, and Chad wants to say something helpful or meaningful but Zeke looks stricken and Jason looks sick and in the end they all trail off to shower, unable to make eye contact or talk. Troy is a nice guy most of the time – he can be a little self-absorbed, it’s true, but they’ve all got their own faults. This total abandonment of the person he used to be, though, is driving Chad crazy.

He pushes into the school’s tiny dance studio once he’s showered and changed into his jeans again. Ryan and Kelsi are twirling around the floor and laughing at each other’s mistakes, but they stop once they see the look on Chad’s face.

“Troy just got kicked off the team,” he says, wondering if he’s actually going to break down in front of them, “He was talking about how he didn’t want to be part of some shitty little high school team.”

“Oh, Chad,” Kelsi says, coming to give him a tight hug. 

“I don’t understand,” Ryan murmurs, frowning, hanging back a little. “Why would Troy say something like that?”

“I guess it’s got something to do with your poisonous sister,” Chad mutters darkly. “She’s taking Troy over.”

“You’re giving her too much credit,” Ryan says awkwardly. “The musical is way more important to her than Troy is.”

Kelsi suddenly looks at him, a little too sharply. Ryan stares back. Chad has no idea what’s going on between them, and says so.

“I’d better go,” Kelsi whispers, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “They might need me in rehearsals.”

When she’s gone, Ryan walks over and pulls Chad into a proper hug. Chad presses his face into Ryan’s shoulder.

“Captain – I mean, that’s a huge deal,” he murmurs. “But I didn’t want it like this.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ryan mumbles into his hair.

“It’s nothing to do with you. It’s your sister’s fault,” Chad says. 

“Yeah.” Ryan sighs. “I guess it is.” 

~

Homeroom is way too full of tension. Gabriella and Troy are still tentatively dating, although Gabriella is looking more and more depressed as every day passes, and she’s bent over a textbook with her dark hair hiding her expression. Sharpay is checking her eyeliner in a small compact mirror, a smug little smile on her lips. Chad’s eyes slide over her, because he can’t look at Sharpay without feeling angry these days, to where her brother is tapping his fingers boredly on the desk. Chad smiles slightly, watching Ryan being completely oblivious to him watching him.

Ms Darbus is droning on and on and _on_ about Shakespeare or something in a faintly hysterical fashion, and Chad finds himself wondering what would happen if he, you know, made him and Ryan _public_. He’s sick of doing the whole creeping-around stuff. It might just be easier to admit everything and face up to the music.

The bell goes, and Chad hangs back a little. Ryan is chatting animatedly to Kelsi about something, while the rest of the class streams out the door. Chad takes his time packing his books and stuff into his bag, not sure what he wants to say to Ryan. If he wants to say anything at all.

A few minutes later, and Zeke comes running into the room.

“Chad, you’ve gotta come now,” he says, grabbing Chad’s arm.

“What-” Chad begins.

“Come on,” Zeke insists. His usual cheerful expression is gone, leaving him looking tired and worried. “It’s really bad, man.”

They hurry down the stairs, nearly knocking into Sharpay, who’s hurrying up the other way. Zeke won’t tell Chad anything, but Chad finds out what the matter is the minute they get downstairs.

Troy and Gabriella are surrounded by about half the student body. Zeke and Chad push their way through to join Jason, Kelsi and Taylor.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore, Troy!” Gabriella shouts. “I mean, the guy I met wasn’t materialistic, vain, selfish _or_ cruel!”

“You don’t understand,” Troy shouts back, face twisted in an expression Chad’s never, ever seen on his best friend’s face. “You’re holding me back! You want me to be this, I don’t know, sweet, _boring_ guy who never does anything without asking _you_ first!”

Kelsi’s fingers bite into Chad’s arm. It’s horrible to watch; the school’s Golden Couple falling into pieces.

“How can you even _think_ that?” Gabriella demands. “You’re the one who tried to force me to leave the Decathlon Team just so I could fit in seeing you around _your_ rehearsals, and you blew me off anyway!”

Chad can’t look any more. Instead, he looks around the crowd. Most students look upset, or sympathetic; a few look sadistically amused. Sharpay certainly looks pleased with herself. But Ryan… Chad can’t work out what the expression on Ryan’s face is for a moment, and then he realises that it’s guilt. But that doesn’t fit. Why would Ryan be watching Troy and Gabriella breaking up and be looking guilty…? And then he realises. It’s like a suckerpunch to the stomach, and through sudden, panicked nausea, Chad barely hears Gabriella shout:

“That’s it, I’m sick of you! We’re through, Troy. Go to hell.”

She pushes through the crowd and Kelsi, Martha and Taylor hurry to follow her. Chad only has eyes for Ryan. He can see the other boy trying to disappear amongst the rapidly dispersing students, but Chad isn’t going to let him go that easy. Not when he needs to know the truth.

~

Ryan is waiting for him in an empty corridor. Everyone else has gone to class, it’s quiet and mercifully quiet. Chad doesn’t want an audience for this. There’s desperation under his anger. _Seriously, man, tell me that this isn’t true. Tell me that you didn’t-_

“I can give you a detailed explanation, if you like,” Ryan says. He’s trembling, just a little, but there’s determination in the way he’s standing straight, looking Chad in the eye.

“I just want you to answer one question,” Chad tells him. His chest hurts, he can’t breathe properly. “Did you help her?”

He thinks that if Ryan plays dumb he will actually just punch him. There’s too much anger and misery for him to deal with in any way, shape or form.

“Yes,” Ryan says.

Chad should leave it at that, but he can’t. 

“You knew that Sharpay was planning on dragging Troy away from his friends and getting him to break up with Gabriella, and you _helped_ her?”

Ryan hesitates, then says: “Yes.”

“Fuck.” Chad takes a deep breath. “So, what, you were using me? Keeping me out of the way?”

For the first time, Ryan looks genuinely upset. “No! How could you even _think_ that?”

“You’ve been lying to me all along,” Chad snarls, voice shaking a little. “I can’t believe a word you say.”

Ryan bites his lower lip, seemingly unable to think of anything else to say.

“I don’t understand-” Chad begins helplessly, gives up. “I mean, I know you don’t give a damn about Troy or Gabriella, but I really thought you cared enough about me not to screw me over like this. He was my _best friend_.”

“She’s my _sister_ ,” Ryan tells him. 

“Yeah, and she’s got you so whipped that you can’t even stand up for yourself any more. It’s _sick_.”

“Chad, I’m-”

“I don’t wanna hear it.” Chad can’t breathe at all now, and Ryan has no expression on his face. “Just _don’t_. You’re an asshole, Evans, and if you come near me again I’ll hurt you, I swear to God.”

He turns and walks away, clenching his shaking hands into fists. But he can’t resist looking back, just because- _because_. 

Ryan’s already gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Kelsi doesn’t trust him. Ryan can’t exactly blame her, since he genuinely isn’t to be trusted; but there’s something kind of depressing about her constantly guarded expression around him. She hasn’t confronted him – Ryan has the horrible suspicion that she’s afraid to – but it’s unspoken between them, and it’s been there ever since Chad walked into their dance class looking on the point of a nervous breakdown a week ago. They’re both pretending that nothing’s wrong, but Ryan knows that Kelsi’s figured out what he’s done, and is not impressed. Ryan isn’t really all that impressed with himself either, when you get right down to it – but tells himself that it’s ok because when he agreed to help Sharpay get Troy Bolton, he had no idea that she was planning on doing _this_. He didn’t have a clue that she was planning on dragging Troy into her own personal world and turning him into an asshole; but it’s too late now, he can’t stop what’s happening.

At the end of an unbelievably awkward homeroom, Ryan has an even more uncomfortable conversation with Kelsi and she drifts off to her next class with a firmly judgemental look in her eyes. Ryan knows that Chad is waiting to speak to him, and that thought makes him feel considerably better. This relationship with Chad is just about the only thing Ryan is proud of at the moment. But, just as he’s about to go over, Zeke comes running into the classroom, grabs Chad’s arm, and practically drags him out the door. Ryan does not have a good feeling about this, and when Sharpay comes running in a moment or two later, he knows things have imploded.

“Come on,” she says breathlessly, “It’s _fabulous_! Hurry, Ry, you’ve _got_ to see this!” 

Her expression of complete and utter glee is distinctly worrying. Ryan hasn’t seen her this happy since Lana Fraser twisted her ankle, leaving Sharpay with the title role in their sixth-grade school production. And since Sharpay is already starring in this year’s musical, Ryan presumes that something even better has happened, and that’s never a good sign.

Troy and Gabriella are breaking up loudly and publicly. It’s painful to watch, sort of like watching fluffy kittens turning on each other or something, and Ryan feels sick because he knows that he helped this to happen. In the crowd of students, half of them look disturbingly smug (has Sharpay started _infecting_ everyone or something?) and the other half are grimacing. Kelsi is clinging to Chad’s arm, face twisted with horror, but when she catches sight of Ryan she sends him an are-you-happy-now kind of look. Ryan quickly tries to look penitent, and actually, he does feel nauseous, seeing Gabriella on the verge of tears. She doesn’t deserve this.

Chad finally takes his eyes off his ex-best friend, and, unfortunately, looks right at Ryan. Ryan realises that he must look guilty as hell (probably because he actually _is_ ) and the look of disappointment and misery on Chad’s face turns to anger brutally fast. _Oh, hell,_ Ryan thinks. He thought he’d been getting away with all this a little too well. It hasn’t been easy, trying to date Chad while simultaneously helping Sharpay make Troy into her little lapdog. Now, Ryan suspects, he won’t have that problem any more. It doesn’t make him feel any better.

“That’s it, I’m sick of you! We’re through, Troy. Go to hell.” Gabriella’s expression is a horrible mixture of misery and anger, and she storms off through the crowd. Kelsi, Taylor and Martha hurry after her, and Ryan, realising what is inevitably going to happen next, quickly goes to find somewhere quiet to hide. He’s not in the mood for an excruciatingly public break-up, but there’s no way Chad will let him get away with this.

It takes time for Chad to track him down, while Ryan plays with the cuffs of his shirt and tries to fight down the butterflies in his stomach. He’s almost tempted to start the exercises he and Sharpay use pre-performance to calm their nerves; but standing alone in a corridor snapping “mah!” at himself won’t help. Instead, he breathes slowly, and decides that he has to face this confrontation with dignity, because he’s got nothing else going for him.

Chad’s face is twisted with anger but there’s desperation underneath that, and Ryan feels guilty for reducing his boyfriend to this.

“I can give you a detailed explanation if you like,” he offers, standing up a little straighter, and forcing himself to look Chad in the eye. He doesn’t want to, God, he just wants to run away, but he didn’t take all those acting lessons for nothing and with any luck he can get through this.

“I just want you to answer one question,” Chad half-snarls, voice shaking. “Did you help her?”

 _No. I would never have done that to you. I had no idea that she was planning to break up Troy and Gabriella, and if I had known I wouldn’t have let her_. Ryan takes a deep breath.

“Yes,” he says. 

Chad visibly shudders, the fingers of his right hand momentarily forming a fist. Ryan braces himself; if Chad wants to punch him, he won’t blame him. But the blow doesn’t come.

“You knew that Sharpay was planning on dragging Troy away from his friends and getting him to break up with Gabriella, and you _helped_ her?” Chad sounds incredulous, the words spat out between his teeth, his eyes narrowed.

Every instinct in Ryan’s body is screaming _deny it, deny it, deny it_ , but he knows it’s too late now.

“…Yes.”

“Fuck.” Chad closes his eyes for a moment, as though the truth is too much for him to handle. Then they snap open, and he asks: “So, what, you were using me? Keeping me out of the way?”

The idea that Chad would think that, _could_ think that, after all this time, hurts Ryan more deeply than anything else.

“No! How could you even _think_ that?” he exclaims, taking half a step forward. Chad steps back swiftly, as though terrified Ryan will try to touch him.

“You’ve been lying to me all along. I can’t believe a word you say.” Chad’s voice is shaking now; he’s really losing it. Ryan bites his lip, unable to reply. He wants to walk away, stop Chad from saying any more, because it’s clear that there’s no way on earth they can continue dating, and sooner or later it’s going to get _really_ nasty.

“I don’t understand-” Chad begins. He sounds utterly lost, rubbing a hand across his face before continuing: “I mean, I know you don’t give a damn about Troy or Gabriella, but I really thought you cared enough about me not to screw me over like this. He was my _best friend_.”

Ryan uses the only excuse he has: “She’s my _sister_.” 

It’s lame, and he knows it, and Chad’s expression changes to one of disgust.

“Yeah, and she’s got you so whipped that you can’t even stand up for yourself any more. It’s _sick_.”

Ryan needs this to stop. He needs to walk away before he starts crying or maybe even starts pleading pathetically for Chad to forgive him; the Evans family must retain their pride, and they _never_ beg. He needs to apologise and leave.

“Chad, I’m-”

“I don’t wanna hear it.” Chad cuts him off, mouth twisted with anger, hands curled into fists at his sides. “Just _don’t_. You’re an asshole, Evans, and if you come near me again I’ll hurt you, I swear to God.”

Ryan believes it. Chad walks away down the corridor, and Ryan doesn’t wait to see if he looks back or not. He flees, heading down the backstairs to the music rooms. Kelsi is at the piano, playing a melody that seems to consist of low notes played too hard, mouth pressed together in a thin line.

She looks up when Ryan walks in, and her glare intensifies. Ryan isn’t sure he’s ever seen Kelsi angry before – at least, not this angry – but he can’t have her doing this today.

“Please,” he says, “Please, tomorrow, shout at me, ask me if I’m happy now, call me whatever the hell you like, but _please_ , don’t do this now.”

His voice is thick and he thinks he might cry any second; when he swallows his throat hurts and he takes his blue trilby off and throws it into the corner in a mixture of frustration and misery.

“Did-” Kelsi begins, tone almost neutral.

“Yeah, he did,” Ryan replies, and it cracks in the middle.

Kelsi closes the piano lid quietly, and gets to her feet. She _does_ look sorry, Ryan registers in a detached kind of way. When she walks out, she squeezes his shoulder in a way that’s almost kind. Left alone, Ryan sits down on the piano bench and presses his head into his hands.

~

When he eventually makes it home, Shar is painting her nails again on the couch, metallic blue, hair pulled into a loose knot at the back of her head. She looks unbelievably pleased with herself, and she probably has a pretty good reason. After all, all the pieces of her plan are falling into perfect place.

“Thanks, Ry,” she says brightly, with a dazzling smile, “I really couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You have to stop,” Ryan tells her. “What we’ve done is wrong and we have to undo the damage before it’s too late.”

Sharpay rolls her eyes, placing the bottle of nail polish on the coffee table. 

“Come on Ry,” she says, “Troy is _so close_ to being mine, Gabriella’s been punished for stealing my place in the winter musical, and the spring musical is going to be _fabulous_. Don’t freak out on me now.”

“You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?” Ryan asks. He is exhausted, he’s got a migraine and Sharpay’s determined innocent expression isn’t helping. “I mean, didn’t you think about the impact this might have on the Wildcats?”

“The people who _held a party_ to celebrate when we didn’t get into the musical?” Sharpay raises a carefully plucked eyebrow. “Yeah, sure, I give a damn about _their_ feelings. Jesus, Ryan, what is _with_ you?”

“Maybe I’m sick of destroying other people’s lives for my own benefit,” Ryan snaps, and watches as Sharpay’s face creases with confusion. He hasn’t shouted at her in _years_ ; it was always easier not to. “You want to know what’s with me, Shar? Chad’s just dumped me, and it’s all _your_ fault.”

“He was never good enough,” Sharpay says dismissively, waving her hand. “He’s collateral, Ryan.”

Ryan feels sick. Sharpay has never been good at empathising, but this is cold even for _her_.

“Is that all I am to you?” he finds himself yelling desperately, “Fucking _collateral_? It doesn’t matter what happens to me, as long as you get what you want? Is that it?”

Sharpay’s eyes are filling up with tears.

“You’re so _self-centred_ , Ryan!” she snarls, “Ok, so maybe I didn’t think about how your precious little boyfriend might feel about my plan, but _neither did you_! So before you go accusing me of screwing your life up, maybe you should think that you messed up your own relationship, and you’re too scared to admit it!”

“ _I’m_ self-centred?” Ryan begins incredulously, but Sharpay cuts him off.

“I don’t have to stay here and listen to this from you,” she announces, and sweeps out, slamming the door behind her. Ryan sinks into the couch, hands trembling. A few minutes later, his mom comes in, carrying a tray with a teapot and two mugs, and a bowl of sugar. The smell of Earl Grey is unmistakable; it’s what his mom always makes when things go wrong. She made it for him when his first serious boyfriend broke up with him, and when Sharpay stole the limelight in their fifth-grade dance recital, and a whole load of other shitty times.

“I’m sorry Chad broke up with you, Ducky,” she says peaceably, pouring him a cup, adding sugar, and stirring it.

“You heard that?” Ryan asks sheepishly, accepting the cup and breathing in the flowery scent.

“I think most people in the neighbourhood heard you,” his mom tells him with a little smile, patting his hand. Ryan takes a sip of tea to hide his embarrassment. He likes being the centre of attention, but only when he’s acting, being someone else. Otherwise, he feels like he exists merely to be Sharpay’s background music.

“Shar just doesn’t understand,” he says eventually, sighing it out because he can’t change it.

“Kitten doesn’t know her own strength,” his mom explains gently. “She gets it from your father. I always hoped you’d be able to counteract her.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Ryan says helplessly into the steam rising from his cup.

“Yes you do, sweetie,” his mom replies, reaching over to take his hand. “You’ve got to go to all the people your sister has hurt and fix things. Sooner or later, she’ll realise what she’s done, and she’ll help you. For now, though, it’s up to you to sort this out.”

Ryan has forgotten that when she’s not on a new fad diet or doing pilates for days on end in their garden, his mom is actually pretty sensible and capable of dispensing useful advice.

“Thank you,” he tells her, putting his cup down on the coffee table and giving her a hug. 

~

It is all very well for Ryan to assume that it’s all going to be ok with maybe a few bribes and a few more kind-of-sincere apologies, but when he walks into school the next morning (had to get a ride from his mom, Sharpay took the car unreasonably early and Ryan hasn’t quite managed to pass his driving test yet), he realises that it’s going to take more than that. Half the students send him venomous glares, the other half are acting like he doesn’t exist (it’s entirely possible that when he’s nowhere near Sharpay, he _doesn’t_ ), and the Wildcats look nauseated as he passes them on the way to his seat.

Ryan would give _anything_ to make Chad look at him. As it is, the boy just sits slumped in his seat, studying the desk in front of him, studiously ignoring everyone sitting around him. Ryan drops into his usual seat behind Sharpay, along from Chad, and carefully does not look around either. Sharpay makes little huffing noises every minute or so, ‘cause she’s so damn good at being angry in an obvious fashion. Ryan is far better at the simmering anger that stays beneath the surface and lasts twice as long; he’s definitely had enough practise at it, and he’s not going to be the first to crack. All their lives, he’s been the _first_ to give, but he won’t, not this time.

“Troy!” Sharpay calls brightly, at a pitch that splits straight through Ryan’s head and explodes into a potential migraine. He angles his hat further over his eyes and wonders how difficult it would be for Troy to actually _miss_ his sister, given that she’s in a outfit that involves more sequins than is probably good for _anyone’s_ health. Their classmates are going to end up blinded – though it’s possibly another nefarious plan of hers; at this point in time Ryan wouldn’t put anything past his sister.

He glances sideways at Troy sitting on Sharpay’s desk and talking rapidly, hands gesturing wildly, and decides that it was really unnecessary of him to suggest cutting off Troy’s ‘problematic’ hair. And probably cruel, and if he hadn’t then maybe he and Chad would have managed… but maybe not.

Ryan is actually torn out of his self-pitying thoughts when Gabriella walks in, head down, books clutched to her stomach. She looks so dejected and unhappy that it actually takes away his self-centred and miserable wallowing, just looking at her. And then the guilt washes over him in thickening waves and he has to glance away because he helped do this to her. Gabriella Montez, who is sweet and inoffensive and likes everyone and has only ever wanted to fit in with a whole new school of scary clique-ish students.

He doesn’t feel like he’s kicked a puppy so much as crucified it and then disembowelled it while laughing manically and singing something by Andrew Lloyd Goddamn _Webber_.

Ryan is going to _burn in hell_ for this. Or, at least, have to put up with Sharpay’s smugness for the rest of the semester, which is pretty much the same thing. Over the other side of the classroom, he catches Kelsi’s eye and she gives a minute shrug, a _you made your bed, lie down in it and tuck yourself in for the long haul_ expression on her face, though it’s not nearly as damning as Ryan thinks he deserves. 

As Ms Darbus walks in and begins a bright and cheerful talk on exactly why cellphones were the worst invention of the twentieth century and how they are all probably going to get ear cancer or at the very _least_ grow up entirely without manners, Ryan lets his head fall onto his desk and refuses to raise it until the bell goes. Chad’s out of the classroom before the sound’s faded away, Sharpay pushes past Ryan’s desk in a deliberately obnoxious way, trying to get a rise out of him – which he won’t give her because he is _not_ playing this game any more – and before he knows it everyone else has hurried away too, leaving him sitting alone. 

It looks like his plans to fix all this are going to need some radical re-working.

~

Before his personal universe so very _helpfully_ imploded around him, he and Kelsi had planned a dance lesson this afternoon. However, since she’s one of the people on the tragically _long_ list of People Who Will Not Talk To Ryan Anymore, he heads off to the school’s dance studio alone, connecting his ipod to the speakers and trying to find something to listen to that won’t be overly maudlin or make him upset and/or angry. Usually, in circumstances like this, he resorts to Judy Garland and _The Man That Got Away_ , at least until Shar steps in and tells him to stop it. Even now, with his sister refusing to even look in his direction (and even if he _was_ willing to look at her, he _wouldn’t_ , because her sequins are actually retina-damagingly sparkly today), he gets the feeling she’ll _know_ he cracked and listened to Judy in a morose fashion, and then she’ll make his life even more hellish. Ryan spends a moment trying to work out how his life actually could get worse, and then decides that his dear twin could always resort to physical maiming or something.

Settling on a reasonably neutral salsa rhythm, Ryan starts stretching, working kinks out of his spine put there by being hunched in a mildly penitent fashion all day. He can’t work out his emotions through flexing his muscles though, and he wonders whether guilt, misery, or frustration will take him out first. 

The door pushes open. “You didn’t wait for me,” Kelsi says accusingly.

Ryan turns so fast his neck makes an unattractive clicking sound. He is suddenly, ridiculously pleased to see her.

“I thought… you weren’t coming,” he replies lamely. “You’re angry with me.”

“Not angry, just disappointed,” Kelsi corrects him, smiling a little. “And I know it’s not your fault; you’re just very… biddable when it comes to Sharpay.” 

“I am not biddable!” Ryan protests, feeling a pout descending before he can stop it.

“The words ‘wrapped around’ and ‘little finger’ spring to mind,” Kelsi tells him, and there’s a teasing glint bright in her eyes. “It’s ok. I’ve just accepted it as an unfortunate character flaw.”

Ryan wants to defend himself but suspects he’s forfeited his right to that ‘cause he’s Sharpay’s lapdog and all.

“So we’re ok?” he asks, and is impressed with the way his voice doesn’t waver or crack in any way. 

Kelsi pulls him into a hug, and she’s tiny and much shorter than him but it’s still nice anyway. Ryan closes his eyes and rests his cheek against her royal blue hat, and decides that it’s nice that there’s one person other than his parents who still likes him.

“Right,” Kelsi says, pulling back a little, “You said something about the Foxtrot?”

“I did,” Ryan agrees, disentangling himself from her and going to put some more appropriate music on. Then he returns to Kelsi, taking her hands in his and giving her something that finally starts to feel like a real smile. For a while, they concentrate on the dance, and Ryan is quietly proud to see how good Kelsi is getting, picking up the steps quickly and hardly stumbling at all. Unfortunately, once the uncertainty over the dance leaves her, it gives them more time to talk.

“So, how are you going to win Chad back?” Kelsi asks brightly and unexpectedly, causing Ryan to nearly stamp on her foot as he slips a little.

“The guy made it pretty clear that if I went near him there would be pain,” Ryan replies carefully, tone too sharp. “Lots of pain.”

“You and Sharpay don’t give up easily,” Kelsi replies, pausing to get her breath back as the song changes. “Or at all. So don’t tell me you don’t have a plan.”

“I don’t,” Ryan admits with more honesty than he meant to let out. The music starts again, but he makes no effort to move. “I hurt him, Kelsi. I mean, I hurt everyone, but I _really_ hurt him and I don’t think I can…”

He trails off, horribly aware he’ll probably completely break if he keeps going. Kelsi seems to understand, because she pulls him close again, resting her head against his shoulder.

“But you do have a plan of some kind,” she murmurs. “You two are always scheming.”

“You say that like it’s a _bad_ thing,” he responds, attempting to hitch a smile onto his quivering lips.

Kelsi laughs, pats him on the shoulder, and then steps back. “Ok, I think I’m finally getting the Foxtrot, let’s go through it again.”

When they’ve finished dancing around the studio and are sitting on the floor drinking bottled water in a merciful, blissful silence, Ryan turns to Kelsi.

“I’m going to fix all of this,” he tells her. “I’m going to put everything Sharpay broke back together, I promise.”

“I believe you,” Kelsi replies simply. “Between you and Sharpay, I think you got the moral compass.”

“It’s a bitch,” Ryan agrees. He lies back against the cool floor, trying to work out where he’s even going to _start_ , when inspiration flashes up in his mind. “I have to go shopping,” he announces. “I have to go shopping _right now_.”

Kelsi gives him a bemused look. “Dare I ask why?”

Ryan smiles brightly. “Phase one,” he tells her.

“Are you going to buy an outfit so fabulous that Chad will take one look at you and decide that he doesn’t care what you did to his friends ‘cause you’re pretty anyway?” Kelsi enquires, smirking at him.

“I’m not _Sharpay_ ,” he replies, wounded. “And I _told_ you, I can’t devote my energy to winning Chad back.”

“Why not?” Kelsi frowns. 

“I’ve been a total bastard to him,” Ryan points out. “I don’t even think I can begin to make up for that, and…” He sighs, swallowing hard, and then mumbles, “I don’t _deserve_ him back.”

Kelsi sighs, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder. “So what are you shopping for, then?”

“Wanna come?” Ryan asks. “I’ll buy you something nice, like a small country or whatever.”

“There are stores that sell those in Albuquerque?” Kelsi smirks. 

“…Or a new hat,” Ryan continues, ignoring her. “Or some sheet music.”

“I don’t have the stamina for shopping with you,” Kelsi informs him lightly. Which is probably true; to call Ryan ‘fussy’ would be an understatement. “And actually, I’ve got to go catch Taylor before she leaves her Scholastic Decathlon preparation class thing.”

Ryan frowns at her, but Kelsi just pats him on the head before getting up and walking over to collect her bag. “Hang in there,” she calls back to him before closing the door behind her.

For a long, quiet moment Ryan considers giving in and listening to every single ballad he can find on one very long, very excessively emotional playlist. But he has a plan now, so he gets up and goes to change back into proper clothes again.

He has a mission. For the first time in days, the tight knot of pain in his chest starts to ease, just a little.

~

Ryan walks into school the next morning feeling a little brighter. It only took eleven different stores to find what he was looking for and the _fabulously_ wrapped box in his bag is making him feel confident enough to walk into class with his head held high, a navy blue fedora that goes amazingly well with his turquoise shirt tilted over one eye. He sits down at his desk, carefully not looking at Sharpay, who is a vision in unsettling amounts of gold lamé, and not glancing at Chad because every time he does it makes his stomach twist and clench.

Gabriella walks in looking like a burst balloon, dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail that does nothing at all for her, expression one of abject misery as she holds her bag against her side and heads for her desk at the back of the room. Ryan watches her, and decides that he’s definitely made the right decision as to which aspect of this whole mess he ought to fix first. He just needs to find his moment.

They struggle through four periods of frustrating hell, where no one concentrates on the classes themselves and Chad remains an angry, hunched figure who won’t talk to anyone, not even Zeke and Jason when they attempt to find out what’s wrong, and Gabriella shrinks into herself, not answering questions. Taylor looks worried, clinging to her friend’s hand and talking to her whenever the teacher’s back is turned. When the bell finally goes for lunch, Ryan is on his feet and over by Gabriella’s desk in an instant.

“Gabriella,” he says, trying to remember the words he spent so many hours figuring out in his room and discovering that this is nothing at all like being in a play, “Can I talk to you?”

She looks up at him, eyes dark bruises in her face. “Sure,” she says, a little hesitantly.

“What the hell-” one of the Wildcats begins, but Kelsi steps in quickly.

“Shall we all go get some food?” she asks, and somehow manages to usher Gabriella’s protectors from the room; possibly because she’s so small and sweet-looking that no one would even _imagine_ disagreeing with her in case she started crying or something. The worst part is that Kelsi totally _knows_ this and is not above abusing it.

“I’ll wait outside,” Taylor tells them, following the others out and closing the door behind her.

Ryan pulls a chair over so he can sit opposite Gabriella, and takes a deep breath.

“I owe you an apology,” he begins. “For whatever it’s worth.”

It spills out in disjointed sentences and it’s not particularly eloquent and probably not even _clear_ in places, but he tells Gabriella everything he did and everything he knew and did nothing about, and tells her how _sorry_ he is.

“Why are you telling me this?” Gabriella asks quietly, looking so tired and unlike herself that it makes Ryan feel ill.

“Because you deserve to know,” Ryan replies. “And I want to start making amends.”

“If Troy let himself be manipulated by Sharpay then I don’t see how we could ever get back together,” Gabriella mumbles, looking down at her hands.

“I’m not talking about you and Troy,” Ryan replies. “I’ve learned to my cost that I’m dreadful at matchmaking. I want to take a step towards making _you_ feel better.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out the large, silver box (so large he had no space for any of his schoolbooks today; he can’t say he’s missed them), putting it on the desk in front of Gabriella. She looks at it with a little apprehension, like it could explode at any second. “Please at least _open_ it,” he practically begs. “It took hours to track just what I was looking for down.”

Gabriella carefully peels the tape back – it figures she’d be the sort to preserve the paper; Sharpay always tears straight in – and eventually reveals the glossy cardboard box inside. She removes the lid and looks at the contents.

“You’re going to make this better with _shoes_?” she asks, sounding a little incredulous.

“Not just any old shoes,” Ryan replies. 

Gabriella frowns a little, but takes one of them out. Mary Jane style, made of glossy black leather with little silver stars cut into them. 

“They are beautiful,” she admits a little reluctantly, taking the other out and sitting them side-by-side on the desk. “I can’t accept them.”

“Look,” Ryan begins, “Troy has treated you horribly. My sister and I have treated you horribly, and you’ve lost your boyfriend and the world is looking so bad that it’s making you feel bad about yourself. You need to kick-start your self-esteem so you can get back to being happy.” He coughs. “And it took eleven stores to find just the right pair of shoes for you, so I’m not taking them back now.”

Gabriella smiles slightly and then nods. She leans down and slips off her flats before carefully buckling the new shoes on, turning her feet from side to side, admiring the way they look in spite of herself. She makes to get up, but Ryan stops her.

“Not done yet,” he replies, reaching into his bag for a silver scarf Sharpay hasn’t worn in at least three years – getting into her closet to steal it was a pretty impressive achievement, considering that they’re attempting to stay on opposite sides of the house at the moment (mom and daddy are starting to get a little pissed, dinner is getting really problematic) – and he figures that even if Shar recognises her accessory, she’s not going to start a bitch fight in the hall to reclaim it. At least, he _hopes_ she won’t. 

Ryan undoes Gabriella’s ponytail and then ties the scarf into her hair, fluffing it appropriately. He looks down at her thoughtfully.

“We need mascara,” he decides, and turns back to his bag. He gets the feeling Gabriella is starting to enjoy herself, because she giggles.

“I’m not letting you near me with-”

“I’ve been doing Sharpay’s make-up since we were six,” Ryan responds practically, dropping a handful of cosmetics onto the desk. “Tilt your head back.”

Gabriella obediently lets him dust some make-up over her depressed, exhausted face.

“There,” he says, standing back to admire his handiwork, “You look fabulous. And now you’re going to walk into that lunchroom with your head held high and everyone is going to be so proud of how well you’re handling this.”

Gabriella stands up, smiling at him. “You didn’t have to do this,” she tells him. “Thank you so much, Ryan.”

He shrugs, unwilling to accept the gratitude. “Yeah, I kind of did.”

Gabriella takes a few steps closer to the door before she realises he’s not following. He’s not going in there, not with Chad in close proximity ignoring him so pointedly and the other Wildcats glaring at him because as far as they’re concerned he and Sharpay are pretty much interchangeable. Not to mention Sharpay holding court with her brand new consort, and Ryan can think of a million things he would rather be doing. Burning all his hats, for example, or having laryngitis, or levering out his eyes with an eyeliner pencil. That sort of thing, you know?

“Come on,” Gabriella tells him, holding out a hand. “If I have to go in there, then so do you.”

Ryan sighs, but walks over and takes her hand anyway. They leave the classroom together to find Taylor leaning against the wall.

“Nice shoes,” she tells Gabriella, and then smiles at Ryan. “You coming for lunch with us?”

“…Yes?” Ryan replies hesitantly, as Gabriella turns to him with a pleading expression. “Apparently.”

Taylor takes Gabriella’s other hand and the three of them head for the cafeteria. When they walk in, interested looks come from all directions. Sharpay is glaring, mouth pressed in a thin, thin line, in an I-don’t-care-if-you’re-my-brother-I’ll-still-have-a-hit-put-out-on-you kind of way, and Troy merely looks puzzled. Over on the jocks’ table, Chad looks like he’s set to explode all over Zeke and whatever baked goods he’s brought in in Tupperware containers today. That would be sad, Ryan decides; the cookies definitely don’t deserve to get hurt. They’re innocents in this.

“I have to get out of here,” he murmurs, but for some frustrating reason Gabriella won’t let go of his hand.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Chad demands, storming up to them. He’s talking in a sort of low, furious whisper, and glaring at Gabriella like she’s the one in the wrong. “Do you not _know_ what Evans did to you?”

Ah, so they’re back to calling each other by surname. Ryan fucking hates break-ups and the ugly little things that start to crop up afterwards.

“He’s apologised,” Gabriella replies steadily. “And he’s done more to make me feel better in the last ten minutes than any of you have in the last two days, so I’m ok with Ryan being here.”

“I can’t believe that you’d even _talk_ to him,” Chad begins hotly.

“Look,” Taylor says, “We’re right in the middle of the cafeteria right now, so maybe we could take this somewhere a little less _public_? Boys?”

“He destroys everything he touches,” Chad warns.

“ _He_ is standing _right here_ ,” Ryan finally snaps.

“I’m not sitting with him,” Chad practically snarls at Gabriella, entirely ignoring Ryan as though he just doesn’t exist.

It’s so nice to know that they’re handling this with maturity.

“Fine.” Taylor’s calm, clear voice slices through the argument. “Gabi and I will sit with Ryan somewhere else. You need to go back to Zeke and eat whatever he’s baked today and calm down before this implodes and we all get detention.”

Through all of this, Chad hasn’t even looked at him. Not _once_. It hurts more than Ryan wants to admit, even to himself. He knew that Chad was pissed, but…

“What was that about?” Gabriella asks, as they sit down at an empty table and Chad stalks back to his. “Chad looks really angry…”

Taylor shrugs, opening her bag and getting out her lunch. “He and Ryan broke up. It’s getting pretty messy.”

“You… know?” Ryan asks, feeling about as stunned as Gabriella looks. Taylor shrugs, and Ryan feels horror and surprise cross his face. “You _know_.”

“Chad told me,” Taylor replies. “Well, about the you-being-together part. It was hilariously awkward, actually, one of those times when you really wish you had a camera. And I kind of figured out the break-up bit for myself.”

“It’s not that messy,” Ryan tells her. “He worked out that I helped Sharpay with her latest Student Body Domination plan, told me I was an asshole, and hasn’t spoken to me since. Pretty cut and dried, really.”

“I’m sorry,” Gabriella murmurs, patting Ryan tentatively on the shoulder, going from shocked to sympathetic in a minute. She really is inhumanly nice, Ryan reflects, to a degree that’s nearly worrying. “How long had you two been going out?”

“About a month,” Ryan replies. “And it was great, and I ruined it. Can we change the subject now?”

Taylor has a thoughtful expression on her face that Ryan doesn’t entirely like; it’s too similar to the one Kelsi had last night; he can’t help feeling that all the girls around him are Planning Something, and that can never end well.

“But you two used to…” Gabriella begins, looking at Taylor.

“It didn’t take,” Taylor replies, smirking. “ _Really_ didn’t take.” She gestures at Ryan. “As you can probably tell.”

“Wow,” Gabriella looks a little awkward. “I had no idea that _you_ were even… let alone Chad.”

“Did the hats not give it away?” Ryan enquires, winking at her. “Or the large amount of pink I wear on a weekly basis? Or the fact I own three different colours of glitter mascara that I let you borrow for _Twinkle Towne_?”

“I just thought you were…” Gabriella gestures vaguely, “…Eccentric. I mean, I suspected, but I figured…”

“Oh dear.” Ryan shakes his head in mock-disappointment. “You can do things with numbers in your brain that most people can’t do with a calculator and a sheet with all the answers printed on it, but yet you can’t remember to put batteries in your gaydar.”

Gabriella starts giggling and Ryan sort of wants to laugh too, if only to ease what feels like cramp in his stomach, which settled there when Chad walked up to yell at them and doesn’t seem to want to go away and leave him the hell alone. He’s broken up with people before, but no one _at school_ and no one he had to see every single day afterwards. He sighs, attempting to keep a cheerful expression on his face. Taylor must notice, because she reaches over to squeeze his arm in a supportive fashion.

“It’s going to be ok, Ryan,” she promises.

Ryan hitches a smile onto his mouth, but he doesn’t really believe her.

~

“I’m unnerved,” Kelsi offers, fingers pressing down on several piano keys to create a discordant accompaniment to her words.

Ryan concentrates hard on the script lying in his lap. As part of Sharpay’s You-Must-Not-Be-In-The-Musical-Ryan plan, she got him out of the way by pushing him into the local youth theatre’s production of _Guys and Dolls_ , and in a couple of weeks he’s going to be Sky Masterson. Right now, full of frustration and emotional turmoil as he is, he can’t think of anything more he would rather _not_ do, but a commitment is a commitment and he can’t quite resist either the spotlight or the _awesome_ black velvet fedora the wardrobe department found for him.

Kelsi plays a few, slightly more harmonious notes and then says: “Still unnerved.”

“I’m sure I’ve done more disturbing things than this in your presence,” Ryan responds. 

“You’re hiding out _underneath my piano_ with your script,” Kelsi points out carefully. “I’m allowed to be a little freaked.”

“I want somewhere quiet,” Ryan explains, “With nice, soft, plinky background music. And most importantly, it has to be far away from all other people.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried that I’m apparently the only person you want to be around today,” Kelsi sighs, and a scratching sound implies that she’s making notations on the blank sheet music scattered across the piano lid.

“I socialised,” Ryan protests. “Gabriella and Taylor seem to have decided that they like hanging out with me; we had lunch for the third time this week. I just… like it _here_.”

Kelsi tries out a melody, a soft stream of notes, and a smile quirks Ryan’s lips. He turns his attention back to the script because, no matter what, if something’s worth doing then it’s worth doing absolutely damn _brilliantly_ and with the potential for as many curtain calls as possible. Kelsi starts humming and playing the piano simultaneously, losing herself in her music once more, and Ryan tunes her out to soothing background noise while double-checking he knows the dialogue for the whole _dulce de leche_ scene.

The door opens, and someone comes in. Ryan isn’t really listening, focused instead on Sky and Sarah, until a worryingly familiar voice says:

“Move over, Kelsi, I’m having totally _heinous_ day. You know, in chemistry this morning, he-”

“I feel I should probably warn you that Ryan is sitting underneath the piano,” Kelsi interrupts calmly, not breaking off from her playing, “He hasn’t really explained, but I’m guessing it’s either because it’s pretty quiet here, or he’s planning on dismembering me at the earliest opportunity, but either way he’s here and you might need to re-think whatever you wanted to say.”

“Like I wanted to talk about _Evans_ ,” Chad snaps, sounding angrier than he did a moment ago, and Ryan stares fixedly but unseeingly at the printed words on the page, trying to tell himself that he’s not going to go mad any moment. “Jeez,” he adds in a slightly louder tone, “Are you, like, stalking me or something?”

“Yes,” Ryan mutters, closing his script with a slap of pages, “Because of course I knew that you were planning on coming to see Kelsi _at this very minute_ and thought that it would be fun to get here before you.” He comes out from under the piano, automatically adjusting his lime green trilby to a more disdainful angle. “Or maybe I just happen to be in the same places as you because _we go to the same school_ and _we take several of the same classes_. You know, just as a thought.”

His tone sounds poisonous and so sarcastic that the words sting his teeth, but Chad is actually looking at him for the first time in nearly a week and if Ryan has to keep hurting him just to keep that eye contact then that’s what he’ll do, because the one thing that he _can’t_ handle from Chad is nothing. At this moment, he’ll take any amount of anger or hurt Chad wants to throw in his direction, just as long as he isn’t ignoring him.

“Right, sorry, I forgot,” Chad all but spits, “Us lower mortals are so much stupider and more disposable than you and your precious sister. Silly of me not to remember, really.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake-” Ryan begins hotly, but Kelsi stands up and glares at them both.

“Boys!”

They fall into a guilty silence, turning to look at the girl. Her cheeks are flushed underneath her lilac cloche hat, and her fingers are pressed so hard against the piano lid that they’ve gone white.

“Enough,” she tells them, quietening her tone though her eyes still spark. Scary girl, Kelsi; Ryan firmly believes that she could take on Sharpay when she’s in one of her _I am queen of the whole universe and can therefore trample other people beneath my tasteful silver wedges because of this so don’t even_ think _about getting in my way_ moods. Not quite, of course, because Kelsi always seems to crumple around Sharpay, but maybe one day… The thought almost amuses him enough to forget the situation he’s stuck in.

“You’ve broken up,” Kelsi continues, voice very sympathetic. “And it’s sad, and I get that you’re both angry as hell with each other and the situation, but you’re not _helping_ anything by setting out to cause hurt.”

“But you’ve got to know what he-” Chad starts loudly.

“Ryan and I have sorted that out,” Kelsi cuts him off. “But if you don’t feel capable of doing that then one of you needs to leave this room because I’m _trying_ to write a song that’s been in my head all day.”

A fresh layer of guilt lays over the old ones, and Ryan scoops up his script. “I’ll go,” he mumbles. 

“I’ll run lines with you in tomorrow’s free period,” Kelsi offers, patting his arm as he walks past. Chad says nothing, becoming intently interested in his sneakers. Ryan bites down on his tongue so hard that it hurts.

Later that evening, when he’s lying on his bed attempting not to be morose and trying as hard as he can _not_ to hear Shar wandering around next door thumping things in a way clearly designed to frustrate the hell out of him, his cellphone buzzes with a message. When he picks it up, it’s from Kelsi: _he really misses you_.

It doesn’t actually help, and it’s only the thought that he’d have to explain to his mom exactly _why_ he needed a new phone that prevents him from throwing it across the room.

~

Ms Darbus is all _I know that you’re doing your latest musical outside the school, Ryan, but I do so appreciate your creative input_ , which finds him sitting around in the theatre watching his sister and Troy being nauseating. Kelsi comes to join him after a while, leaning supportively against his shoulder.

“What _have_ you done?” she asks, sounding amused. “Look at what you helped create.”

Troy and Sharpay are laughing about something, one of them fluffed a line and apparently it’s just about the most _hilarious_ thing that’s ever happened, like _ever_. It’s sickening and a little traumatising. As far as Ryan can remember, Sharpay has never wanted this sort of thing. Not ever. She wants a sycophantic partner and someone who can sing and dance and act reasonably well – though, of course, not as well as her; that bit’s vital – and she wants to have fun, but Ryan never got even the vaguest of ideas that his sister ever wanted the whole drearily-vanilla-relationship thing she’s currently having with Troy.

“Maybe I should break them up,” he muses lightly. “Shar won’t speak to me ever again and I don’t think Gabriella would be in any way better off, but it would probably be for the good of mankind anyway.”

Kelsi watches them dance around on the stage for a long moment. “It would be,” she agrees. “And even if mankind weren’t grateful, I know I would be.”

Ryan taps his fingers against the leg of his mauve skinny jeans, watching Sharpay, and deciding that if they were still talking he’d have advised against today’s outfit.

“She misses me,” he decides. 

“How can you tell?” Kelsi asks curiously.

“Her accessorising abilities are disintegrating,” Ryan explains. “Her pashmina clashes slightly with her shoes, and I wouldn’t have let her do that.”

Kelsi sighs. “I will _never_ understand the relationship between you two. From the outside, it doesn’t look all that healthy.” She gives him a smile, as though trying to assure him that it’s not a personal attack. Ryan knows. He and Shar have never had the most beneficial of relationships, but he adores her nonetheless. And when she remembers to look away from her ill-gotten victory, she’ll remember that she adores him too.

“I used to have a nauseatingly sweet relationship with my boyfriend,” Ryan mumbles at last, carefully not looking at Kelsi. “It was awesome.”

“I know.” Kelsi squeezes his hand tightly. 

Ryan sighs. “And I screwed it up myself ‘cause most of it was based on a lie and I thought I was being so _smart_ ‘cause I had the best of both worlds and I’d kind of convinced myself that Chad wouldn’t care and I _couldn’t_ abandon Shar, she’s _Shar_ , she’d have only hurt me or stolen my favourite hats or something, and the Troy-and-Gabriella thing was kind of nauseating and besides, it’s what we’ve _always_ done so I didn’t really see what was going to be so different about it this time and I hate this whole damn situation because I feel guilty all the time and Chad won’t look at me and it makes me angry ‘cause he won’t let me explain and maybe I don’t deserve the chance but if it were the other way around I would totally let him talk to me and even through all that I can’t look at him without wanting to kiss him and it… it really, really _sucks_.”

Kelsi is silent for a while, though she maintains her grip on Ryan’s hand. Finally, she turns to him with a sweet smile: “Better?”

Now he’s finally gotten it all off his chest, Ryan feels like he can begin breathing again. 

“A little,” he murmurs, concentrating on the light glinting off Sharpay’s aqua-sequinned kitten heels because it’s distracting enough that he doesn’t need to think about anything else.

It becomes worryingly clear that he was meant to be actually watching the rehearsal and making some kind of notes, because Ms Darbus comes swishing up the aisle, various bracelets clinking together on her arms and scarf floating behind her in an imaginary breeze – which is reasonably cool and a trick Sharpay and Ryan have utterly failed to master – and asking what he thinks so far.

Ryan tenses with panic and Kelsi chokes down a giggle.

“Looks great, Ms Darbus,” Ryan says, giving her a thumbs up and a brilliant white smile. She returns to the stage looking pleased, and Kelsi shakes her head.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” she murmurs teasingly.

“It’s not looking _that_ bad,” Ryan says. “Sharpay’s appalling sense of accessorising aside. You do good work.”

“She’s ruined _You Are The Music In Me_ ,” Kelsi mutters. “She’s trying to speed it up and add extra solos and things and even Troy looks a little confused and helpless in rehearsals.”

“She doesn’t know her own strength,” Ryan sighs, inadvertently quoting his mom. Kelsi still looks crestfallen beneath her flowered newsboy cap, and he sighs. “I’ll have a word with her.”

Kelsi gives him an admiring look. “You’re a brave, brave man, Ryan Evans,” she tells him.

Ryan smiles at her. “I kind of am, aren’t I?”

“And once again, I have to commend you on your modesty,” Kelsi giggles, elbowing him.

“It’s genetic,” Ryan offers. “Underneath it all, we Evanses can’t help thinking that we’re rightfully the most awesome people in the universe; it’s been hardwired to our DNA, there’s nothing we can do about it. And I am _far_ prettier than any other guy at this school.”

“Remind me _why_ I like you again,” Kelsi says, rolling her eyes.

“I buy you stuff?” Ryan suggests brightly. 

Kelsi shrugs, laughing, though she calms down enough to say: “Yeah, I guess there is that.”

~

People probably felt this way on the walk to their executions, Ryan decides morbidly, cutting around the back of the stage to the dressing rooms. He’s only been avoiding the theatre for a week, but it still feels a little strange to return here; the drama club all smile at him as he walks by. After all, it doesn’t seem to bother them that Sharpay stole Troy Bolton and made him join the Spring Musicale. As far as they’re concerned, Ryan is still a perfectly decent guy – or whatever passes for a decent guy in the cut-throat and above all glitzy world of showbiz.

“Hey, man,” Troy offers cheerfully, hurrying past him. Ryan returns the greeting, and once again remembers that Troy is in no way a bad guy; he’s just worryingly easily led and, you know, maybe his weird hair grows downwards into his skull sometimes and impairs his thought processes. Or whatever.

There’s a star made out of gold glitter stuck to the door of Sharpay’s dressing room, and Ryan raises his hand to knock, reminding himself that it’s about time he made up with Shar. He’s angry with her and he’s angry with himself and it’s about time he divided up the blame between them, assigning it to the right people. It’s always worked out well enough in the past.

“Come in,” Shar calls, and Ryan obediently enters. She turns around and fixes him with a sharp glare. “What are you doing here?”

“Kelsi says you’re ruining her big power ballad,” Ryan tells her, pushing his purple fedora back a little to fix her with an appropriate glare. “It’s not your show, sis, no matter how hard you try to take the whole thing over, so I think you need to take out the modifications and leave it alone.”

“Why should I do anything for you?” Sharpay demands. 

Ryan sits down so he can be on eye-level with his twin.

“I lost Chad,” he tells her, fighting to keep his voice calm and steady. “You didn’t exactly help, but it was my fault. I wrecked my own relationship and I can’t blame you for that.”

“You bought Gabriella shoes,” Sharpay accuses.

“You, like, lobotomised her boyfriend,” Ryan points out. “And when Gabriella mopes half the student body mopes with her and it all gets pretty tiresome. And she’s a sweet girl. Frighteningly forgiving, but sweet.” He shrugs. “Plus, mom and dad will probably shove us into some special kind of sibling counselling if we don’t start talking to each other soon, and I really do have better things to do with my time.”

Sharpay smiles. “No, you don’t. And we could probably go on not talking to each other for like another week before they got that drastic.”

“Your shoes don’t match your pashmina,” Ryan counters.

There’s a moment of silence. Then Shar practically launches herself across the room and throws her arms around him, her blonde hair tickling his nose and her chin sticking kind of awkwardly into his shoulder, but Ryan doesn’t care because he’s missed her more than he’s willing to admit.

After a couple of minutes, Sharpay pulls back, attempting a bright smile. “Look, Ry, I’ll help you out, ok? If the muppet-haired and _tragically_ dressed Chad Danforth is who you want, then we’ll get him back.”

“Talk to Kelsi,” Ryan tells her. “She’s the one who seems to be coming up with all sorts of ideas as to how to fix this.”

Sharpay’s turquoise-eye-shadowed eyes widen. “ _Kelsi_? Shouldn’t you be handling this yourself? Kelsi won’t be able to plan nearly as well as you and I can.”

“I’m not going to _plan_ anything with you,” Ryan says as calmly as he can manage.

“Oh, Ry, you’re not going to go all masochistic and self-pitying on me, are you? ‘Cause I can go back to ignoring you,” Sharpay informs him. “Don’t get started on how you’re not _good enough_ for Danforth or anything; Danforth’s the one who isn’t good enough for _you_.”

“Remember how we’re trying to like each other again?” Ryan says lightly.

Sharpay rolls her eyes. “I guess I’d better go track down Kelsi,” she says, getting up and clomping towards the door.

“And Shar…” Ryan begins.

She sighs. “Yes, ok, _fine_ , I’ll leave the song alone.”

Ryan smiles. “Thanks.”

Half an hour later, Sharpay tracks him down where he’s been pretending to study in the library while he waited for her to give him a ride home.

“It’s very tragic,” she says. “Kelsi and Gabriella and Taylor have all formed a little committee thing with pages and pages of _lists_ and a _powerpoint presentation_ on how they’re going to get Danforth back for you.”

Ryan blinks a few times, trying to process this. “Oh.”

“I’m very disturbed,” Sharpay adds. “Kelsi says I can’t help because I’ll upset Gabriella or something. You really seem to have charmed all the girls without me looking; you’re such a _slut_ , Ry.”

“I’m _gay_ ,” Ryan reminds her mildly.

“You don’t just have a fag _hag_ ,” Sharpay continues, warming to her theme and ignoring him as usual, “You have a _harem_ of them. I would be impressed if I wasn’t quite so freaked.”

Ryan shakes his head, grinning. “Shut up,” he murmurs affectionately, and heads for the library door.

The basketball team are trailing down the hall, clearly having finished after school practise, chatting and laughing. And Chad is directly looking at Ryan as he walks out of the library. His expression is so neutral that it’s impossible to read, but he is looking, which Ryan supposes is a start. But then Sharpay follows Ryan out of the library, and Chad’s expression closes into muted fury again, and he turns away, walking too fast up the hall, seemingly oblivious to his teammates’ shouts to slow down.

“Shit,” Sharpay remarks in a detached tone of voice, watching Chad hurry away without looking back.

Ryan sighs, leaning on his sister and burying his face in her shoulder. “Just take me _home_ , Shar.”

~

One afternoon, Shar is striding around with her favourite lime green sunglasses giving the world a cheery, citrus-y edge, and Ryan is doing his best to ignore the way the sun is glinting blindingly off her lemon yellow stilettos. She’s talking non-stop about the musical and one particular scene that she feels she and Troy have absolutely _nailed_ , and Ryan spends a faintly bitchy moment wondering if life was actually slightly better when the two of them were pointedly ignoring each other. At the very least, it was quieter. 

“Hey, Ryan!” Jason comes running down the hall towards them, and Ryan wonders weakly if the world is attempting to come to an end. If it is, he wishes he’d picked a slightly more awesome hat. Not that this one isn’t nice or anything, but it’s not exactly the hat he’d like to face the apocalypse in. There aren’t nearly enough sparkles, for one thing.

“Uh… hey,” he says blankly, trying to remember if there are any other Ryans at their school and if it would be logical for Jason to be looking for them instead. Apparently not. Shar’s eyes widen behind her sunglasses. Well, Ryan decides, at least he’s not the one thinking that this whole situation is worryingly abnormal.

“See you later, Ry,” she tells him, clearly intending to run before Unnamed Doom strikes them both down. Or maybe she’s just aware that she shouldn’t spend too much time around any of the Wildcats since she stole her depressingly earnest leader. Ryan’s never entirely sure how perceptive his sister actually _is_.

If Jason is aware of the full-scale panic attack he’s just induced, he doesn’t show it. Possibly people who aren’t the Evans twins react normally when faced with fellow students talking to them. Ryan suspects that somewhere along the line he’s completely forgotten how to be normal, which is depressing but not entirely unexpected.

“We’re a team member short,” Jason explains, doing his best not to look uncomfortable, “So I was wondering if you wanted to come play baseball with us?”

Ryan regards him with suspicion. “Did Kelsi put you up to this?”

“No.” Either Kelsi really didn’t, or Jason should be trying out for the drama club next semester. Neither thought is particularly comforting.

Still, Ryan’s been having a reasonably crappy week and is therefore feeling just about masochistic enough to say: “Ok then. Why the hell not?”

Jason claps a hand on his shoulder in a casually friendly way and before Ryan really has time to register what’s going on, he’s changed into the loose pants and shirt he normally wears for dance practise, and Jason and Zeke are pushing him toward the baseball diamond.

“Why are you asking me to play anyway?” Ryan asks. He isn’t wearing a hat – today’s fedora didn’t really seem appropriate – and he feels so damn naked without it. He couldn’t feel more naked if actually _was_ naked – and at least if he was naked, he know that a) he’s got nothing _whatsoever_ to worry about in that department anyway, and b) Chad would probably have to be pushed into talking to him again.

“You’re good, dude,” Zeke replies cheerfully, punching Ryan’s arm. “And we’re getting kinda sick of having our asses handed to us.”

It’s so very nearly plausible. Ryan wants to believe them, and he _is_ damn good at baseball, but growing up with Sharpay has given him a nearly impossible to shift layer of suspicion. The Evans twins are irrevocably paranoid – it’s as much their _thing_ as sparkly accessories and breaking into showtunes at inappropriate moments. ‘Unique’ doesn’t even _begin_ to cover it.

“What’s _he_ doing here?” Chad demands, in his very best look-at-the-weird-little-drama-fag-intruding-on-our-space voice. There’s no conviction behind it, though, which is pretty comforting, especially taking into account the fact that Chad kind of looks like someone ran into him with some kind of heavy-duty vehicle, and then reversed over him a few dozen times. Only, you know, without the blood and inevitable death and stuff.

Blind panic is making Ryan’s brain think things he doesn’t want it to be thinking. He’d like it _shut up_ around now, though, with Chad striding angrily across the diamond to them, flushed high on his cheeks and clashing with the Wildcat sports uniform that he seems unhealthily attached to.

“Ryan’s going to play with us,” Jason replies, apparently oblivious to Chad’s best attempt at a death glare (this is becoming a rather worrying pattern; does the guy notice anything _at all_?). It’s a good death glare, Ryan has to admit, but he’s had his internal organs carved out and vaporised by Sharpay’s angry looks on occasion, so Chad can’t begin to compete. The glare stutters somewhat as it passes over Ryan, become distinctly less hostile and more… well, Ryan’s not exactly sure what the look in Chad’s eyes means. It’s only about halfway up the list of Things That Have Happened Today That Are Disturbing, though, so he lets it go.

“Think you can take me?” he asks, and his voice is an odd blend of flirtatious and hostile, ‘cause apparently Chad’s conflicting emotions are infectious or whatever.

“Oh, I think I can.” Chad’s voice has the same unsettling combination of antipathy and want and Ryan remembers why he used to like dating guys who don’t go to East High. It makes life just that little bit easier in the long run.

“Any objection to me pitching?” Ryan asks the team in general, resulting in lots of shrugs and a chorus of ‘no’s. Chad puts the ball into Ryan’s hand, their fingers brushing together. It’s the first time they’ve touched in nearly a fortnight and it sends a jolt through them both. The rest of the team trail off to take up positions, but Chad doesn’t move.

“Should I be worried that you’re going to beat me up for coming near you?” Ryan asks carefully.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Chad confesses, voice quiet. “I’ve been feeling like shit for telling you that.”

“What about the rest?” Ryan asks.

Chad shrugs. “No, that, you deserved.”

He gives Ryan a hint of that embarrassingly charming smile before heading over to pick up the bat.

“I’m gonna kick your ass!” he warns loudly.

“In your dreams!” Ryan replies, turning the ball over in his hands.

The other Wildcats are clearly treating this game as something fun to do on a warm spring afternoon, laughing and teasing each other, but it’s equally clear that Ryan and Chad have something entirely different going on, glaring across the diamond and not even trash-talking each other because they’re too busy focusing on _winning_. Ryan isn’t really sure what he gets if he beats Chad; he just knows that he absolutely has to.

By the time the sunlight is starting to dim a little, they’re onto the last inning and they’ve got exactly the same score. Because fate is a bitch – or so it seems to Ryan, anyway – Chad is batting and he is pitching and Chad is on second base and if he gets the guy out then he’s _won_. Zeke hits the ball and starts running and so does Chad, but Jason manages to intercept the ball and throws it to Ryan. Chad is coming up and all Ryan has to do is-

Before he’s really aware of what he’s doing, Ryan fumbles the catch. _Deliberately_ , he realises with horror, allowing Chad to skid on his knees across the home plate and win the game. It’s not obvious to anyone what he did, but Ryan knows that he _intentionally_ lost and he is utterly ashamed of himself. If Shar knew, she would disown him. No matter what the stakes or the possible consequences, the Evans family _does not lose_.

Chad is still knelt on the floor, wiping dirt off his face, and Ryan shrugs weakly, unable to look directly at him. Instead, he turns away, heading for the locker room before Chad gets his breath back. Ryan doesn’t know what he wants to happen right now and so it’s easier just to get the hell away. He has dirt ground under his fingernails and his hair feels flattened and filthy and… and he arranged to have a piano lesson with Kelsi today, and he’s now over an hour late.

Shit.

Someone’s running after him, and when he turns, he finds Jason catching up. 

“Good game,” Jason says when he reaches Ryan. “You should, like, try out for the team next semester.”

Because that would, of course, be _great_. What with him and Chad incapable of looking at each other and having a little too much competitive-spirit-slash-sexual-tension, and it’s only the fact most of the Wildcats are _so_ creepily for-the-team and therefore don’t notice what real life is actually _like_ that they haven’t picked up on this yet.

“I think about it,” Ryan replies non-committally, not slowing down. “But I’m late for a piano lesson with your girlfriend, so I’ve gotta go.”

Jason nods, smiling at him. There’s an awkward edge to it, as he mumbles: “You’re a good guy, Ryan,” before turning and heading back to his team. The guys all start yelling that _what team? Wildcats!_ thing they do that makes them all sound like they’re part of some kind of weird cult that keeps its control through brainwashing, and Ryan doubles his pace.

He hasn’t even changed as he hurries into the music room. He knows Kelsi will still be there – occasionally, Ryan has wondered if Kelsi _ever_ goes home, or if she just falls asleep under the piano and then unfolds herself the next morning to measure out her life in musical notes – and sure enough, she’s sitting at the piano, humming as her fingers dance over the keys.

“Sorry,” he practically gasps, “I’m really _late_.” 

Kelsi stops playing abruptly and turns around. As she takes in his dishevelled and dusty appearance she starts smirking.

“Look at _you_ ,” she teases, “You’re looking almost manly.”

“I’m plenty manly,” Ryan responds petulantly. 

“Of course you are,” Kelsi replies, tone completely insincere. “And don’t worry about the being late thing. I didn’t think we were going to have a lesson today anyway.”

The amusement in her eyes is clear and Ryan realises that she knew all about the baseball game before _he_ did.

“But Jason said you didn’t put him-”

“ _I_ didn’t,” Kelsi explains, looking far too pleased with herself, “ _Taylor_ , on the other hand, was perfectly willing to ask Jason to include you.”

Ryan stares at her for a long moment. “You really should like Sharpay more than you do,” he manages. “The two of you are worryingly similar once you start scheming.”

Kelsi laughs, pushing the peak of her orange baseball cap back a little.

“You need to go home and take a shower,” she tells him. “And then you need to remind yourself that you had fun this afternoon before you freak out for a few hours. And tomorrow morning, come over to my house for breakfast and we’ll have the piano lesson. Plus, I might get my mom to make those blueberry pancakes that you pretend really hard that you don’t love.”

Ryan finally cracks a smile. “Thanks, Kelsi,” he says. And then, before he leaves: “You know, your boyfriend is really… _nice_.”

“I know,” Kelsi responds brightly. “I only hang out with guys who are nice, Ryan, you must’ve worked that out by now.”

Ryan frowns. “But I’m not exactly-”

“You’ve spent so much time pretending to be Sharpay that you’ve forgotten how nice you are,” Kelsi tells him, shrugging. “You’re a total softie under that bitchy exterior.”

Ryan tells himself that he’s not blushing as he says goodbye.

~

It’s a sign of how ridiculously weird his life is becoming that Ryan doesn’t even wince when Zeke corners him in the hall between math and history. A few months ago, he would have come out in hives at the thought of any of the Wildcats coming willingly up to him and talking to him, but now he just takes it as par for the very weird course he’s currently on. Instead, he just stares silently at the worryingly tall other boy, who is clutching a Tupperware container and smiling in a way that does not set Ryan at ease in any way at all.

“If those are cookies for Shar, I feel I should warn you that she’s currently pretty much living on green tea and broccoli, there’s some dress she wants to get into or something, which is stupid because she’s already like, snappably thin already but, you know, maybe you could try and make broccoli cookies or something…” he trails off. “I’m babbling. Sorry. I’m usually slightly more normal than this.”

Zeke is laughing at him, but in a kind way. 

“I made the cookies for you,” he says. 

“Oh.” Ryan can’t think of anything else to say, so continues to look at Zeke in the hope that sooner or later something will get clarified. “Uh… why?”

Zeke shrugs. “You want to ditch the next class?” he suggests.

“Sure,” Ryan begins, deciding that the chances are Zeke wouldn’t go to all the trouble of making cookies for someone he was planning on murdering and hiding in a maintenance closet somewhere, and really, he’ll take any excuse to get out of History. Then something occurs to him. “Wait a minute, don’t you have Home Ec right now?”

“It’s cool, man,” Zeke replies, smiling at him. 

“But you _love_ Home Ec,” Ryan points out.

“This is important,” Zeke tells him. “I need to talk to you. And I have cookies.”

Ryan decides to go with the flow because obviously the world has decided to make No Fucking Sense and it’s in no way his fault, so he follows Zeke through the halls and into the gym, which is mercifully empty right now. They sit down on one of the benches and Zeke opens the Tupperware to reveal a whole heap of white chocolate and pecan cookies. Ryan _adores_ white chocolate but Shar decided years ago that it did not really count as real chocolate and therefore was not allowed in their house, and it’s been his secret binge food for ages.

“These are my favourites,” he admits quietly. “How did you-”

Zeke smiles. “I asked Taylor who asked Gabriella who asked Jason to ask Kelsi,” he explains.

Ryan takes a cookie. “Right,” he murmurs. “Do I want to ask why you went to all this effort?”

“Look,” Zeke begins, “I know everyone thinks my life basically revolves around puff pastry and shooting hoops, but I do pay attention occasionally.”

Ryan takes a bite of his cookie. It’s like an orgasm with pecan pieces and a gorgeously soft centre, and for a moment he contemplates having someone with a little more muscle than him kidnap Zeke and then he and Shar could shut him up in their wine cellar and have him cook things on demand. 

Having unreasonable amounts of money is _such_ a _burden_. For one thing, it kind of makes you start to think that sociopathic and potentially illegal things are perfectly possible.

“What have you been paying attention to?” he asks, taking another bite of cookie and feeling more charitable to whatever it is Zeke wants to talk about now that there’s awesome food involved. 

“I need to know what happened between you and Chad,” Zeke tells him calmly. Ryan chokes on the cookie, and decides that no amount of baked goods can make this situation anything other than traumatic and awkward.

“Did Kelsi, Gabriella or Taylor put you up to this?” he demands. 

Zeke merely smiles at him, like Ryan’s increasing paranoia is sort of entertaining. 

“No,” he clarifies. “But I know that something went on and I want to know what it was.”

Ryan tries to work out how Chad will feel if he outs him to one of his teammates, and if he’ll threaten physical bodily harm again. But Zeke is looking understanding and went to the effort to bake him stuff and it would be rude to eat the cookies and not say anything.

“Look,” Zeke begins when Ryan remains silent, “I know something went on, ‘cause Chad started stealing large amounts of cookies and then leaving the cafeteria and not coming back for ages, and suddenly he and Kelsi are friends and there was a fortnight when he _would not shut up_ about you, and then Troy and Gabriella broke up and suddenly Chad got all angry and he flinches if anyone mentions you. I’m not stupid, you know.”

Ryan eats another cookie. “I never thought you were,” he replies, “Just unfortunately fixated with my sister. And considering my track record, I can’t exactly hold that against you.”

Zeke grins sheepishly. “We’re not talking about me,” he warns.

“Fine.” Ryan sighs, and talks to his loafers rather than look at Zeke, telling, once again, the increasingly depressing story of how he and Chad couldn’t quite work out their differences.

“Thought it would be something like that,” Zeke says, leaning back comfortably. His legs are freakishly long, Ryan can’t help noticing. If Zeke and Shar _had_ ever gotten together, she’d have had to wear her five-inch stilettos all the time just to come up to his shoulder. “Jason thought Kelsi got him to ask you to play ‘cause she wants you included more or something, but to be fair the poor guy does look at the world in a slightly different way to everyone else.”

So Ryan isn’t the only one thinking that Jason exists behind a solid pane of glass, missing subtext entirely. The guy is clearly devoted to Kelsi and Ryan wants her to be happy, if nothing else, but you could write a pretty thick book of all the things Jason just hasn’t noticed about the world. It’s either really sweet or deeply disturbing, but Ryan hasn’t quite chosen which yet.

“Anyway,” Zeke continues brightly, helping himself to another cookie, “Chad totally wasn’t acting like a guy who’d won last night.”

Ryan wants to be smug. He wants to be, but… he just _isn’t_. He knows Chad is hurting. It doesn’t make any of it any better or any easier or any more likely that they’ll be able to put their differences aside and return to whatever it was that they were doing before. It’s entirely possible that Jason’s weirdly detached way of looking at the world is rubbing off on Kelsi, or maybe she just has more faith than Ryan does (which, is has to be said, is not exactly _hard_ ).

“So…” Zeke is looking worryingly thoughtful and Ryan notices that they’ve absent-mindedly eaten a good two-thirds of the cookies, which is an impressive achievement. “I guess you want to get back together with Chad.”

Ryan nods, not looking at him. If Zeke suddenly decides to join Kelsi, Gabriella and Taylor’s _Seriously_ Disquieting Crusade For Getting Ryan And Chad Back Into A Relationship, he fears he may actually go insane. The surrealism is really starting to get to him.

“Tell me why you’d be good for him.” While Zeke doesn’t exactly sound harsh, there’s a sharp steely edge to his voice that is eerily reminiscent of Sharpay. Or maybe Ryan has just got to the point where he sees traces of Shar in _everything_.

Ryan shrugs. “My parents own a country club,” he drawls a little too flippantly, deciding that whatever Zeke’s good intentions are he’s not going to sit down to a fucking _interview_ about whether he’s suitable or not to date Chad Danforth. Zeke turns to stare at him, and Ryan re-evaluates his tone of voice. “Oh God. That kind of sounded like a pick-up line. It wasn’t! I mean, I like your cookies and all – that’s not a euphemism – but I don’t want…” He puts his head in his hands. He’s altogether too tired and too ineloquent to deal with today. Maybe he’ll blow off his afternoon classes and go hide out at home with Ben and Jerry’s. And possibly the rest of these cookies, because Zeke has probably put crack or something in them; _nothing_ should taste this good and be quite this addictive.

“Dude,” Zeke says when he finally stops laughing enough to talk, “I just wanna be there for Chad ‘cause Troy’s completely hung up on your sister and all. Stop freaking out, ok?”

The bell goes and since someone’s going to need the gym soon, Zeke quickly puts the lid back on the remaining cookies and he and Ryan hurry out before they get caught.

“You’re weirdly ok with all this,” Ryan says as they head back out into the crowded halls again. 

Zeke shrugs. “Most people in this school seem to think ‘I like to bake’ is some kind of random comment on my sexuality,” he explains. “I figure it’d be kind of rude to judge.”

Ryan has never really looked at it like that, which is odd in and of itself because he and Shar used to love trying to guess which members of Troy Bolton’s Little Clone Posse Of Strange-Haired Jerks were gay. Funnily enough, Zeke never came up, mostly because he was obsessed with Shar in a way that she was utterly dismissive of but which didn’t mean she couldn’t be smug from time to time anyway. Ryan supposes that all those times they thought Zeke was checking her out he could just have been admiring her shoes, but he and his sister never thought of that. Which is just plain depressing; they’re clearly slipping.

“For what it’s worth, man, I hope it works out between you and Chad,” Zeke offers as they get closer to Ryan’s locker. “And you’d better keep the rest of the cookies.”

Ryan isn’t even going to protest; he just takes the container with a smile. “Thanks,” he says genuinely. “You’ve totally made my day.”

Zeke claps him on the shoulder and then walks away, leaving Ryan feeling a little better. That is, until he looks down the corridor to see Chad staring at him with an utterly furious expression. His happy baked-goods-and-earning-Zeke’s-approval buzz immediately vanishes. He opens his locker with shaky hands, deposits the Tupperware container inside, and then obediently ducks into the nearest empty classroom. If he had any sort of dignity left, he would run away and not let Chad get the chance to shout at him, but sadly he can’t seem to stop himself. It’s probably masochism, or maybe Shar’s just trained him too well.

“You’re misinterpreting the cookie gesture,” Ryan says quickly when Chad walks in, practically slamming the door behind him. “They’re just cookies. Zeke bakes for people whose pants he _doesn’t_ want to get into, right?”

Chad scowls. “Do you and your sister have some sort of competition going?” he spits. “Seeing how many members of the basketball team you can get through before we break for summer?”

Ryan’s angry now, because he was having a nice day and hoping for progress and this? This is _not_ progress. This is not even _close_ to progress.

“Yeah,” he replies, calmly, coldly, “I was gonna go after Jason next. I’ve just got to finish squaring it with Kelsi. I thought she might be pissed about me stealing her boyfriend, but, you know, I offered to buy her a pony and she _totally_ caved.”

Chad looks a little like Ryan has hit him. Which is good, because if it got down to an actual fight Ryan is perfectly aware that he would get his ass kicked.

“ _You_ broke up with _me_ ,” Ryan reminds him, voice starting to shake. “You do not get to judge anything that I do. If Zeke wants to make me cookies then that’s none of your damn business.”

Chad smirks uncomfortably. “Didn’t take you long to move on, did it? That’s the Evans family all over. You look like beautiful waxwork models on the outside, and on the inside you’re like ice.” His tone is scathing.

“It’s probably better than leaping to crazy conclusions and then throwing around hurtful accusations,” Ryan snaps back. He does not appreciate being put in the same box as his sister and anyway Chad doesn’t _know_ Shar and the fact that when she actually remembers she’s human she can be twice as much of an emotional wreck as anyone Ryan knows. “Maybe you should just make yourself one of those tacky t-shirts with _Stupid, Blind Bastard_ written on it.”

Chad draws in a sharp breath, and Ryan realises that by insulting the t-shirts he may have crossed a line of some kind. He almost wants to apologise, but then Chad looks him up and down – ok, Ryan might be wearing a little too much pink today but he can’t help it if it goes with his skin tone – and his lip curls.

“I see you’re letting your sister dress you now as well as think for you,” he says.

 _Ouch_ , Ryan thinks, and then wonders why this is uglier than their original break-up was. Possibly ‘cause they’ve had more time to stew over the feelings of hurt and betrayal. 

“You know,” Chad continues, and for a minute he looks more vulnerable than pissed, “Last night, I thought-”

Ryan thought too. At least, he wanted to think that maybe things were going to work out all right after all. He wants to say these things before it’s too late, but apparently there’s still enough of pissed-off teenage boy in him to shrug and say:

“Whatever.”

He turns away but Chad has all those frustrating athlete reflexes and in the space of about three seconds he’s caught Ryan’s shoulder, spun him around, and kissed him.

It’s angry. It’s hot. It’s _really really_ traumatic. They’ve never kissed like this before and Ryan sort of likes it because he’s so annoyed right now that trying to eat Chad alive is kind of helping, but on the other hand it’s only going to make things _worse_. But Chad abruptly pulls away and wrenches open the classroom door, storming out. He turns back, and pretty much shouts at Ryan:

“I fucking hate you!”

Ryan follows him. “Well, I fucking hate you _more_!”

They become aware that they have an audience when they turn to find out that they’ve just shared these pleasantries in front of their principal. The detention is sort of inevitable.

~

“You are a _liability_ , Ry,” Sharpay informs him brightly, when he’s hiding out in her dressing room instead of chemistry, because Ms Darbus will totally write him some kind of exonerating note and then he won’t have to worry about being in the same room as Chad in case he does something inadvisable. “I asked you not to do anything socially disastrous this year, and you just… lurch from disaster to disaster. It’s sort of pathetically sweet.”

“Thank you, Shar,” Ryan replies tiredly, “I’m so glad I have a sister as supportive as you are. I don’t know _what_ I’d do with myself otherwise.”

Sharpay rolls her eyes. “Mom isn’t going to forgive you,” she warns. “Her precious _Ducky_ getting detention; it’ll break her heart.” There’s a smug edge to her voice that implies she is sort of looking forward to telling when she gets home.

“I’ll cut your hair off while you’re sleeping,” Ryan threatens idly. “Don’t _tell_ her Shar, and it’ll be _fine_.”

“It will not be fine,” Sharpay replies, turning her attention back to the more important issue here; her false eyelashes. “And mommy will be so _devastated_ when she finds out that you were caught fighting in front of the principal.”

“This is all your fault,” Ryan reminds her. He’s about to elaborate when Troy walks into the dressing room.

“Shar, they need us to rehearse-” he trails off as he catches sight of Ryan. “Hey man,” he smiles. “I hear you got detention.”

“I _hate_ this school,” Ryan mutters.

“So,” Troy continues, oblivious, “What were you and Chad doing?”

“Breaking up. Again. To add to the other break up that happened a couple of weeks ago. Because being thorough is the key to these things, and I don’t think we had nearly enough vitriol in the last break up, to be honest,” Ryan responds without a shred of emotion in his tone.

“Jeez, Ry, you’re so _emo_ ,” Shar murmurs, curling her eyelashes.

Troy is frowning. “You and Chad broke up?” he asks incredulously. “But you… I mean, _why_? He seemed really happy not that long ago.”

Ryan wonders if Troy has even _noticed_ that he and Chad aren’t whatever the male equivalent of BFFs is any more. Shar must realise that they’re all on reasonably thin ice here because she gets to her feet, clattering over in her raspberry-pink glitter heels to take Troy’s hand and drag him through into the theatre. Ryan sighs, leaning back in his chair and wondering exactly what the hell happened to today. 

~

All too soon, it’s time for him to drag himself down to Principal Matsui’s office for whatever fun the man has cooked up to punish him and Chad for swearing at each other in the halls or whatever it is that they’ve done. Their principal looks deeply unhappy as he regards the two of them, fidgeting in front of the desk.

“I heard from Coach Bolton that the two of you were getting along very well,” he says, and Ryan wonders if he’s the only one thinking that that statement is deeply disturbing. Still, he’s reasonably certain that Coach Bolton would have either enough discretion or enough sense not to walk into the Principal’s office and announce: _hey, I found one of my team making out with one of the drama club in the gym. These crazy kids, huh?_ “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

Ryan immediately becomes interested in his shoes, and when he glances sideways he notices Chad is studying the ceiling panels. At least they’re showing a united front of silence.

“Well,” Matsui continues, apparently deciding not to press them for eye contact – which is kind of a relief, since Ryan has no intention of looking up until it’s time to leave – “Is there anything you’d like to say to _each other_?”

_Chad, I am not here for you to work out your frustration and potential sexual identity crisis. If you want to go around jumping people in an angry fashion, go somewhere else. I bet half the cheerleaders would put out._

Well, there’s nothing that Ryan would feel comfortable saying in front of his Principal, that’s for certain. Chad makes a soft little non-committal sound and Matsui responds with a loud sigh. Ryan gets the feeling that the two of them are being unreasonably frustrating, but he doesn’t feel like being helpful. That’s one thing he and Shar have always had in common; as far as they’re concerned, being helpful is for _other people_.

“Fine, if you don’t want to talk, then you can get on with your detention.” Matsui smiles at both of them; it’s a tired smile, and doesn’t reach his eyes. He waves at two neat piles of manila cardboard folders on his desk. Ryan gets a horrible suspicion that his near future is going to involve _filing_ , and for God’s sake, he skipped a lesson or two and swore at one of the schools _precious_ basketball stars, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to get treated like some kind of _temp_.

Chad’s expression really isn’t much happier, which makes Ryan feel a little better about being so snobbish. 

“I will be back in half an hour,” Matsui tells them, “By which time I expect you to have put all these away. Ok?”

They mumble and shuffle their feet and Ryan feels hopelessly ineloquent, but on the other hand he’s not used to being stuck in situations like this. He and Shar have always carried enough weight to get out of detention in the past. Matsui walks out, closing the door behind him.

“You know,” Chad remarks, “We could totally trash his office and go home.”

“I think he trusts us,” Ryan replies, feeling a little bemused. “Which is pretty random.”

Chad half-smirks and then walks over to look at the two piles of folders. “Ever filed anything before?” he asks.

“Stupid question,” Ryan reminds him before he can think, but Chad mercifully smiles at him instead of taking it as an insult. Then he narrows his eyes slightly.

“You’re wearing glitter mascara,” he observes.

Ryan shrugs. “Had to do something while skipping chemistry,” he points out. 

Chad sniggers, and then looks awkward. “You should probably know that Zeke read me the riot act about the whole attacking-you-over-cookies thing.”

“I did _try_ to tell you,” Ryan shrugs. “Not very hard, admittedly, but he made me cookies in an entirely heterosexual way.” He snickers. “Now there’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.”

Chad rolls his eyes. It almost looks affectionate from the angle Ryan’s standing at, but he wills himself not to read too much into it. That’s the problem with spending so much time in the theatre; you tend to judge everyone on body language rather than what they’re actually saying. 

“You’ve totally charmed him, by the way,” Chad says after a moment, picking up a few files and heading over to the cabinets, clearly deciding to get on with the task – or maybe he just doesn’t want to look Ryan in the (glittery) eyes; it really could be either. “Zeke spent _all_ of chemistry going _on and on_ about how I should give you another chance, and then Taylor and Gabriella and Kelsi all started joining in. It was like being in a chick flick. Dude, it was _scary_.” 

“You poor, poor guy,” Ryan murmurs, with only a trace of sarcasm in his tone, picking up some files of his own and going to join Chad.

“Did you start up a Ryan Evans Fan Club while I was ignoring you?” Chad adds after a moment. “‘Cause I swear, everywhere I go someone new is telling me how awesome you are.”

Ryan shrugs. “Well, I didn’t want to brag…” he smirks. “Besides, I kind of figured you wouldn’t want to join; I’m not exactly your favourite person, am I?”

“I might want to join sometime in the distant future,” Chad responds cheerfully. “Are there cool membership cards?”

“With appropriate amounts of glitter,” Ryan deadpans. 

“What’s the point of membership cards _without_ glitter?” Chad asks, and they both burst out laughing. It’s the first natural interaction they’ve had in weeks, and it feels so good. Not looking at him, Chad continues flicking through the files already in the drawer. Off-hand, he adds: “Did you know your sister offered me money to get back together with you?”

Ryan chokes. He can’t work out if he feels more bemused or shocked, as he manages to ask: “How much?”

Chad doesn’t look at him. “Less than you’re worth.”

“Could you have gotten a car with it?” Ryan’s tone holds a little too much bitterness that he can’t seem to hold back.

“Probably.” Chad slides one drawer shut and reaches for the next. “And gas money for like the next six months.”

“Jesus.” Ryan takes a moment to process this. “You must _really_ hate me.”

They work in silence for a moment; it turns out filing isn’t so much difficult as mind-numbing, and Ryan can totally deal with that. Eventually, Chad shifts awkwardly and turns to look at him.

“I don’t hate you,” he says. “That’s mostly the problem.”

All the air seems to have disappeared from the office. Ryan sucks his lower lip into his mouth for a second, trying to regain some perspective. It’s frustrating, the way that on the one hand this situation is so simple it’s surprising that they haven’t gotten back together already. On the other hand, it’s so complicated that Ryan just wants to go hide in someone’s dressing room for a while and _scream_.

“I’ll have a word with Shar,” he says eventually. “Tell her to stop treating you like some kind of hooker.”

“I was more insulted on your behalf than mine, actually,” Chad replies, not looking at him.

“That’s progress, right?” Ryan asks.

Chad smiles, warm and genuine. “Yeah.”

A minute later, Matsui walks back in, to find the two of them putting away the last files. Their principal gives them an uncomfortable little half-smile.

“Let’s not have a repeat of this, shall we boys?” he suggests, voice all false brightness. “I definitely don’t want to have to face Coach Bolton and Ms Darbus on your behalves again.”

Ryan and Chad nod and then practically flee the office, back into the empty corridors of the school.

“Oh man,” Chad remarks, “Can’t you just see Darbus and Bolton getting all pissed at Matsui for putting us in detention?”

Ryan laughs. “That’s pretty awesome,” he says. “You know, if we made a habit out of this we could make his life a living hell for the rest of the year.” He shrugs at the expression on Chad’s face. “I’m pretty good at making people’s lives hell, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” Chad looks sad rather than pissed, which was _not_ what Ryan was going for. After a moment, though, he seems to brighten up a little, holding out a hand to Ryan. “Truce?”

Ryan does not _want_ a truce, he does not _want_ to play at being friends; he _wants_ his damn boyfriend back. But that’s the sulky Sharpay-like side of him, and the rest of him knows that he should settle for what he can get at the moment if he wants to have _more_ in the future.

“Truce,” he agrees, taking Chad’s hand. The touch is too intimate, and they’re staring at each other, and somehow they’re closer now than they were earlier with their ill-thought-out kiss. Ryan lets go too fast, looking away, and he wonders if Chad is blushing; he’s too scared to look. “We should go,” he says, “I don’t really like the idea of staying here overnight.”

Chad shudders. “Don’t even _joke_ about staying in school all night,” he says. “That’s totally _disturbing_.”

They make their way out to the front of the school, where Chad’s mom is waiting in the car, scowling. Her expression lightens a little when she notices Ryan walking alongside her son.

“Mom misses you,” Chad tells him, sounding a cross between amused and embarrassed. “I think she wants to put a picture of you in our fridge next to Michael Crawford.”

Ryan stops dead. “Oh dear God.”

Chad starts laughing. “Man, you’re way too easy,” he snickers. 

“You are _not funny_ ,” Ryan informs him, resisting the urge to shove him.

They’ve gotten close enough for Ms Danforth to roll the window down. “Can I give you a ride, Ryan?” she offers.

Ryan gives her his best charming smile; it’s not _her_ fault he and Chad are on thin ice at the moment. “Thanks, but I probably need to hang around and wait for my sister to stop prancing around on stage insulting other people all in the name of art,” he replies brightly.

“Your life worries me,” Chad tells him, pulling open the car door open and practically falling inside. “See you tomorrow, Evans.”

Well; it’s a start.

That night, when Sharpay has mercifully kept her mouth shut and not told their mom about Ryan’s lapse in judgement and subsequent detention, they sit in the kitchen sharing a tub of Ben and Jerry’s. Their mom is humming while she makes herself a smoothie that involves freaky amounts of wheatgrass – her diet fads never cease to be icky-looking – and Shar has a weirdly smug expression.

“Maybe we should have put you and Danforth in a small, enclosed space ages ago,” she suggests thoughtfully, following a marshmallow swirl in the ice cream with her spoon. 

“You should tell Troy what you did,” Ryan tells her calmly. He’s been thinking about it all day, and has decided that the next step in the healing process needs to be kick-started.

“The hell I should!” Sharpay responds, voice uncomfortably shrill. Their mom coughs meaningfully from behind them, presumably trying to remind Shar that the neighbours would actually like to retain their eardrums.

“It’s about time we cleared the air,” Ryan says. “And if you don’t tell Troy, maybe I will.”

Sharpay pouts. “If you tell Troy what we did, I’ll have you killed,” she warns. “I’ll hire someone. Like Javier. I bet he’d do it, he loves me.”

Ryan pushes the ice cream out of collateral damage range and leans over to whisper in her ear. “FYI, sis, you’re not the _only_ one who hooked up with Javier last summer.”

This revelation causes Sharpay to loudly call Ryan something that makes their mom look over and say: “Careful, Kitten; that’s not a very nice thing to call your brother.”

“You are _dead_ to me,” Shar hisses, pulling the ice cream out of Ryan’s reach. 

“Well,” Ryan counters, “I’m dead until six-thirty tomorrow morning, when you will need me to help pick out your outfit.”

Shar scowls deeper as he reaches over to try and take the ice cream back. “Dead people don’t need Ben and Jerry’s,” she informs him tightly. 

Ryan gets up, deciding it’s about time he went to bed anyway. “Just think about what I said,” he suggests mildly. Shar ignores him, shoving a large, selfish spoonful of pudding into her mouth. “You’ll get fat,” he warns idly, with just enough venom to make it sting. What else are siblings for?

Sharpay’s shrieks, occasionally punctuated with their mom’s soothing attempts to explain: _Pumpkin, you_ have _been winding Ryan up all night, what did you expect_ , follow Ryan all the way up the stairs.

~ 

Ryan actually remains dead to his twin until five-thirty the next morning, when Shar comes in carrying armfuls of clothes and starts dumping them all on his bed. Ryan blinks blearily at her for a while, unable to summon up any powers of speech, while Shar clatters about. Eventually, he edges out from under the increasingly high piles of clothing all over his bed.

“Do I want to know what you’re doing?” he asks tentatively. Shar rolls her eyes.

“Sorting out my summer wardrobe,” she replies, like it’s perfectly logical for her to be doing that all over his bed at an unreasonably early hour of the morning. “ _Duh_ , Ry.”

“Of course.” Ryan sighs, stumbling towards the bathroom. “Stupid of me not to figure it out.”

Shar tuts loudly behind him; Ryan ignores her and goes for a shower. 

When he gets back, Sharpay seems to have put her _entire_ summer wardrobe all over his bed and is sorting it into colour piles. He watches her for a moment, trying to find a tactful way to get her to take her clothes _off_ his bed that won’t involve high-pitched shrieking, because if _he_ starts shrieking then Shar will start shrieking and then there’ll be a whole thing. And Ryan totally doesn’t have time to do three hours of yoga to burn off the hysterical feeling before school starts.

He hides in his walk-in closet for a while, finding an outfit in lemon yellow for today that is either totally hideous or kind of cute. But after trying on four different hats and angling each one appropriately for a while, Ryan decides that he’s got to be a man for once – or the closest possible equivalent, anyway – and kick his sister out of his room. He walks back in to find Shar is still arranging dresses all over his bed.

Ryan opens his mouth to get angry when he realises something about the way his sister is almost compulsively organising things. Sharpay is one of the messiest people Ryan knows, preferring to leave stuff lying around for other people to pick up rather than put it away herself, and only organises her own things when she’s bored or frustrated. With the Spring Musical in just over a week and therefore a whole lot of people to bitch at in rehearsals, Ryan’s going to assume that it’s _not_ the former. But what exactly does that mean?

“You’re frustrated,” he says slowly, attempting to figure this out aloud. 

Shar rolls her eyes. “Help me pick out an outfit for today,” she orders, waving a hand over the clothing heaps.

“You’re _frustrated_ ,” Ryan repeats. “Which is weird since your little scheme worked out so very prettily. Maybe the musical isn’t going so well – but it can’t be that ‘cause you’d be spending every other minute trash-talking the other students and you’re _not_ , and anyway I don’t think you’d willingly be in any musical that wasn’t one hundred percent perfect, so it’s not that.”

“Save the Psych 101 for a day when we’ve got more _time_ ,” Sharpay snaps, but she’s folded her arms defensively which means that Ryan’s getting somewhere.

“And the opinions of others have never bothered you so it’s not that the fact half the student body wants you dead, and anyway it’s not like that’s a _new_ thing.”

“I think we need to brush up your flattery skills,” Sharpay informs him frostily. “Pick me some clothes or go away.”

“Yeah, good luck with kicking me out of _my own room_ ,” Ryan replies, but concedes enough to pick her out a dress in hot pink, which should go nicely with her latest pair of gold stilettos. “So if it’s not the musical and it’s not your fanclub, and it isn’t me ‘cause you tend to just vent at me in a high-pitched sort of fashion when you’re pissed, then it’s something else in your life that’s making you frustrated.”

“Jesus, Ry,” Sharpay cuts in sharply, “Maybe Broadway isn’t your calling after all. You should be a psychoanalyst or something.”

In general, Ryan cares less about other people’s problems than he pretends to, but his sister really doesn’t need to know that. And anyway, he always cares about Sharpay’s problems, partially because he _does_ love her, but also because when his twin is unhappy she tends to decide that _everyone_ must be unhappy to match her. It’s all about the flattering coordination.

“It’s Troy,” he decides. “Last time I checked he was still unsettlingly devoted to you, so you haven’t broken up, but your problem _is_ with him.”

“I do not have a problem with Troy!” Shar’s voice is so high-pitched it could probably shatter glass. Ryan finds himself glancing towards his windows, just to make sure that they’re still intact.

“Nice case for the defence, sis,” he remarks. Shar remains mutinously silent, leaving Ryan to fill in the blanks for himself. Which really isn’t that difficult a task; he knows his sister far better than he wants to admit he does – if only because their thought processes are worryingly similar. “Ok, so you’re frustrated by Troy. Even though the two of you seem to be in a perfectly nice relationship…” He trails off.

Shar clutches today’s dress against her lilac silk robe, and scowls at him. 

“Oh,” Ryan says, realising he’s finally cracked it. “And it’s what you _thought_ you wanted until you got it, right? ‘Cause Troy’s so _nice_ and there’s only so much you can do for his personality and you don’t _want_ to sit around all the time being expected to hold hands and watch movies. You don’t have Gabriella’s temperament.”

Sharpay pushes past him, heading back for her own room. That, if nothing else, confirms Ryan’s suspicions.

~

Today, Kelsi’s hat is a vivid apple green, tilted back from her face as her fingers dance over the piano keys, expression one of bliss. The fact she’s clearly been here at least an hour doesn’t do anything to disprove Ryan’s theory that she actually _lives_ in the practise rooms, but he doesn’t mention it.

“How was detention for you?” Kelsi asks, tone mildly innocent but the glitter in her eyes makes Ryan think she’s waiting for some kind of report of him and Chad making out during their forced labour detention. Because, of course, Ryan has so _little_ dignity that he would go for that _in his Principal’s office_. 

“I filed,” Ryan replies calmly. “It was unexciting. I’m going to have to make it on Broadway, ‘cause I’ll never be able to work in an office or whatever.”

“You won’t ever _have_ to work,” Kelsi points out. “You will be able to _pay_ other people to take care of the menial tasks for you.”

“That’s true.” Ryan brightens up a little, coming to sit beside her on the piano bench. 

“And that really wasn’t the part of the detention that I was interested in,” Kelsi adds.

“I’ve got better gossip,” Ryan responds, trying not to read too much into Chad’s friendlier attitude because God knows what it _actually_ means, “Shar is bored of Troy.”

Kelsi’s eyes widen. “Oh,” she says, and for a long minute seems incapable of speech. “Does Troy know this?”

“No.” Ryan frowns. “I think I need to break him and Shar up, but…”

“You can’t do it until after the musical is over,” Kelsi interrupts quickly. “I’ve done enough key and tempo changes on these songs as it is, I won’t do it again because Sharpay or Troy or both of them decide to walk out.”

“Yeah,” Ryan agrees. “But the longer I go without telling Troy…”

“You’ve managed this long,” Kelsi points out, and then sighs heavily. “Look, you’ve got me thinking like an Evans now. Troy probably should know what you and Sharpay did, shouldn’t he?”

“It ought to come from Shar, though,” Ryan says. “Otherwise I’m just going to end up looking all _petty_ and _bitchy_.”

“And of course,” Kelsi says, looking virtuous, “No one could ever _normally_ accuse you of being petty _or_ bitchy.”

Ryan knocks her hat off. “I thought you said I was ‘nice’.”

“You actors are so _temperamental_ ,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “And you are nice. And petty. And bitchy.”

Deciding to quit before this dissolves into childish bickering, Ryan reaches for the latest sheet of music lying on the piano, Kelsi’s neat pencil scribbles all over it.

“Last minute changes to a song in the first act,” Kelsi explains. “Sharpay thinks it needs to go a little faster and there are a couple of lyric changes I need to fit in.”

“Do you want me to go complain at her some more?” Ryan offers. 

“She’s probably right,” Kelsi shrugs. “For once.” She plays a few experimental notes, and then adds in a nonchalant voice: “If you or Sharpay end up talking to Troy today, I’m around for damage control.”

Kelsi does damage control like _no one_ else; it’s something to do with the way she’s all non-threatening and tiny, at least up until the point you turn around and realise that she’s completely manipulated your emotions without you noticing until it’s too late. It is entirely possible that she _is_ a long-lost, much more subtle, Evans. 

“I think we might need it,” Ryan replies, patting her on the shoulder. “Though I’m going to need to persuade Shar first. Wish me luck.”

Kelsi smiles at him. “Good luck,” she tells him, and Ryan gets up to leave. As he gets to the door, Kelsi adds: “Don’t think that telling me about Sharpay will get you out of giving me every single minute detail about detention last night.”

Sometimes, Ryan can’t help wondering if he corrupted Kelsi in some weird way, or if she’s always thought like him and Sharpay. It’s not something he can ever really slip into conversation, though, so he guesses he’ll never know.

~

Sharpay accidentally sticks her mascara brush in her eye when Ryan tells her that she’s absolutely _got_ to talk to Troy today.

“You’re frustrated,” Ryan says. “And it’s unfair to keep Troy in a relationship that you’re not committed to.”

“He’ll leave the musical,” Shar warns, dabbing at her eyes with makeup remover. Although her tone is calm she’s clearly not as stable as she wants Ryan to believe she is. It’s a pity for her that he knows her too well.

“He won’t leave the musical,” Ryan tells her, trying to keep his voice soothing. “Kelsi’s on damage control.”

“She is good at that,” Sharpay admits softly. Then a pout appears on her face, and her voice returns to a shrieking pitch. “You told _Kelsi_?”

Ryan doesn’t wince; he just shrugs. “Of course I did. You knew I would.”

“You’re a dreadful brother.”

“I’m a brilliant brother,” Ryan responds calmly. “One day you’re going to figure that out.”

Shar rolls her eyes but says nothing, which Ryan decides he’ll take as her agreement, because it’s simpler. 

“Go and talk to Troy,” he orders quietly.

“And I guess this will help you get _Danforth_ back.” Sharpay spits Chad’s name like it’s a swear word or something, but Ryan refuses to let her get to him. Shar is hurting so she wants to push out and annoy everyone around her. That’s ok; she has far worse coping mechanisms that she could be using right now.

“For once,” Ryan replies, “This isn’t actually about me and my personal gain, which is obviously very weird, but maybe if I lie down in a dark room later it’ll go away.”

Sharpay wrinkles her nose. “You secretly _like_ being selfless,” she tells him in tones of disapproval. “You _enjoy_ it. I wish you’d just have some kind of dirty covert porn thing instead.”

Ryan blinks at her for a moment. “…Ew.”

“You tell him,” Sharpay suggests, in her usual manner of delegating. She turns around in her chair to look right at him instead of his reflection in the mirror, expression hopeful in a brittle sort of way. “It’ll sound better coming from you.”

“No it _won’t_ ,” Ryan replies. “It won’t sound good coming from _anyone_.”

Shar sighs, turning back to the mirror and completing her make-up. It’s flawless, as ever, and she’s made her eyes look even bigger than normal. Great big Bambi eyes; Ryan decides that you _know_ the situation’s bad when Sharpay Evans, the girl who eats lesser mortals on toast for _breakfast_ , decides that she needs to look vulnerable.

“You’re doing a good thing, sis,” he tells her.

Sharpay gives him her favourite melodramatically _tragic_ > look. “I _know_ , it’s awful.”

She gets up determinedly and heads for the door. “Break a nail,” Ryan calls after her. It’s their own personal good luck message; after all, what are broken limbs when there are damaged manicures to contend with? Shar doesn’t turn back, though, just keeps walking, golden stilettos clicking determinedly on the floor.

Once she’s gone he starts feeling guilty. Of course, it’s better for _everyone_ that Shar and Troy break up, because it’s creating rifts between the students and whatever Gabi says and no matter how many times she wears her divine new shoes she still gets wistful if you don’t distract her; and weirdly enough Ryan has started to _like_ her. But still, Shar is the sort of girl who likes winning things and then getting to keep them, regardless of whether she _really_ wants them or not. They’ve got cabinets full of glitzy forgotten awards that mattered for all of about five minutes. 

“Greater good,” he murmurs, which is weird ‘cause his usual mantra is something along the lines of _it’s going to be sparkly and it’s going to be mine_ , “Greater good.”

~

Attending classes has kind of wound up pretty low on Ryan’s current list of priorities, which he should probably do something about on a day when his sister and Troy Bolton aren’t breaking up. The school is buzzing with rumours and it’s sort of sad how voyeuristic the students are (don’t they have their own lives? Why are they all trying to live vicariously through Troy?), exchanging gossip with an excitement bordering on _smug_. Ryan has yet to see his sister or Troy after whatever happened, and mostly he’s just trying to stay out of it. 

“You’re going to flunk… everything,” Kelsi points out mildly. They’re in the auditorium, surrounded by the overwhelming smell of drying paint from the freshly-decorated scenery. It involves a lot of green and flowers, what with the whole _spring_ theme.

Ryan waves a vague dismissive hand in her direction. “I’ll be fine. Taylor’s promised to make me revision flashcards.”

Kelsi smirks. “No wonder you befriended Gabi and Taylor; you need someone to cover up for you when you don’t work.”

Ryan rolls his eyes at her and she leans over to bat his hat over his eyes. They’re getting into a very silly slapping fight with slight traces of girlish shrieking coming from _one_ of them (but Ryan will never admit which) when the distinctive sound of four-inch stilettos clicking along the hall reaches them. Kelsi turns to look at Ryan, a question in her eyes.

“Go,” Ryan hisses. “Go _now_.”

Kelsi nods, climbing over him to get out of the row and then running down the central aisle, heading for the nearest exit. Ryan lets out a slow breath, and then gets to his feet, ready for when Sharpay bursts into the auditorium. Her pink dress shimmers beautifully, she doesn’t have a hair out of face, and she’s held together with beautiful dignity. But her lips are pressed too hard together and Ryan’s heart breaks for her; like it always will.

“Happy now?” she demands, voice quivering.

Ryan walks up to her, taking her hands in his. “Come on, Shar.”

He leads her up to the empty stage, the place the two of them will _always_ feel most comfortable, and sits down on the floor. Sharpay follows suit, sitting opposite him.

Ryan points at the gold mary-janes with their implausibly thin heels. “Shoes,” he says.

Sharpay slips them off; Ryan can see the marks where the shoes are cutting into her feet, but Shar’s stamina when faced with uncomfortable footwear is limitless, so he doesn’t mention it. Sharpay crosses her legs, immediately assuming the lotus position. Ryan’s the one with the patience for yoga, but every now and then his sister gives in and has a go.

“Are you ok?” he asks quietly.

Shar presses her hands to the floor, spreading the fingers, and they both stare at her gold glitter manicure for a while.

“Ry, am I a bad person?” Her tone is hesitant and entirely _un-Sharpay_ and Ryan hasn’t felt this guilty since Chad dumped him unceremoniously in the hall.

“No,” he replies, and Sharpay raises her head to look at him. Her mascara is just starting to smudge, and her mouth is twisted with misery. “You’re _not_ a bad person, Shar, you’re just… not very good at sincerity.” 

Sharpay gives a smile that’s a little bit more genuine. “Thanks, Ry.”

Ryan puts his hands on top of hers. “So…”

“Yeah.” Shar nods. “It’s over. And Troy may or may not want me dead.”

There isn’t a lot Ryan can say to that, so he curls his fingers a little, linking their hands together. They sit there and breathe, slow and steady, until the bell goes. The theatre will soon be full of people and while the Evans twins of _course_ thrive on having an audience there are times when they don’t, so Shar gets her shoes back on and they head off to fix her make-up before math.

They enter the classroom with Ryan’s arm wrapped protectively around his sister. Sharpay isn’t cowed at all, but she’s still a little vulnerable, her chin raised defiantly. Gabi gives Ryan a little understanding smile, and while Chad stares at them for too long he isn’t _glaring_.

Kelsi and Troy are both conspicuously absent. Ryan hopes that this is a good thing.

~

They’re meant to be running lines for _Guys and Dolls_ , but it’s kind of turned into an impromptu dance lesson. Ryan can’t go home too soon, anyway; he thinks Shar ought to go first and talk to their mom before he gets back.

Kelsi says that she has too much on her mind to learn any new dances, and Ryan just wants to relax, so the two of them just waltz around the dance studio. They’re both so busy concentrating on other things that it takes Ryan a moment to realise that they’re absolutely _nailing_ the dance; bodies moving in smooth tandem as they get faster and faster. Even Kelsi notices how well they’re dancing together as they spin more quickly, light on their feet and grinning openly at each other. They stop when the music does, collapsing in a dizzy, giggling heap on the floor. Ryan stares at their reflections in the numerous mirrors, Kelsi leant against his shoulder, fingers still loosely entwined with his.

“Sometimes,” he murmurs, and doesn’t realise what he’s saying until he says it, “I think everything would be easier if I was _straight_.”

Kelsi gets an anxious look, following his gaze to their reflection in the nearest mirror. 

“That’s something I never thought I’d hear you say,” she observes, giving him an easy smile. “Though we _would_ be a very cute couple.”

“At _least_ as adorable as Troy and Gabriella,” Ryan agrees flatly.

He thinks that Sharpay’s carefully-concealed despair today has made him realise just how damn _lonely_ he feels without Chad; his time with Chad made him reliant on something he didn’t have _before_ him, and doing without it stings to a stupid degree.

Kelsi sighs, looking worriedly at him. “Was Sharpay very angry?” she asks, reaching up to sweep messy hair off Ryan’s forehead.

“No,” Ryan replies. “Just upset. How was Troy?”

Kelsi grimaces. “Pissed,” she says. “Really, _really_ pissed.”

“Ah.” Ryan frowns. “And the Spring Musical?”

Maybe he should, you know, care about Troy Bolton’s emotional welfare or whatever, but showbiz is, for better or worse, lodged in his bloodstream and he does care more about the show than he does about Troy right now. He won’t admit it aloud; Kelsi probably knows anyway,

“It’s still going ahead.” Kelsi gives him a broad, proud smile. “You may worship me now.”

When Shar says that, it sounds like she’s only claiming a right she honestly believes is due to her; but coming from Kelsi in a tone designed to mirror his sister’s, Ryan can’t help laughing. Besides, Kelsi has kind of _earned_ some kind of super _awesome_ reward; she has took what could so _easily_ have been The Biggest Disaster, Like, Ever (at least, to hit the East High Drama Department), talked Troy down off his metaphorical ledge, and smoothed it all over without needing to blackmail anyone or offer money/various kinds of maiming. The girl is possibly magical.

“You are my superhero,” he says, straight-faced. “You’re wonderful and fabulous and gorgeous, oh my beloved Composing Nymph.”

“Am I interrupting something?” comes a voice. Chad is peering around the door at them, looking somewhat bemused.

“Yes,” Kelsi deadpans, getting up. “Ryan and I are passionately in love. Gabi’s going to sing at our wedding.” 

Chad walks into the studio, letting the door shut behind him. “ _Dude_ ,” he says.

“I think I might go by ‘Composing Nymph’ from now on,” Kelsi says, as Ryan pushes himself to his feet as well. “Maybe you could get it printed onto a t-shirt for me?”

Chad smiles, but his attention is fixed on Ryan. “Troy’s talking to me again,” he says. “I’m going to guess it’s all your fault.” 

He sounds less angry than his words imply; he’s kind of smiling, and his eyes are full of warmth.

“‘My fault’?” Ryan echoes. “Shouldn’t you be going ‘oh Ryan, darling, Troy’s talking to me again, how can I ever repay you’?”

Chad snorts. “Seriously, I’ve _never_ called you ‘darling’.”

Ryan can’t resist. “Maybe you should start.”

Chad screws up his face. “I wouldn’t call you ‘darling’, even when I liked you.”

Ryan’s adjusts his pose a little, resting his weight on one hip. “So you don’t like me _now_?”

Kelsi starts giggling. “Boys, stop flirting. I thought we were meant to be running lines, Ry?”

Chad frowns, suddenly looking lost. “Are we flirting?” he asks Ryan, like he genuinely doesn’t know.

“Well.” Ryan shrugs. “ _I_ am, and you’re not running away, so I guess that kind of makes it flirting.”

Chad nods, slowly, considering this. “Ok.”

It’s a bit of a lack-lustre response, but then Ryan supposes that they _did_ kind of leap from staring at each other across classrooms to making out _everywhere_ to full-on _dating_ without any of the traditional stuff that comes in the beginning of relationships, so he can’t really blame Chad for not picking up on it now.

Kelsi glances uncomfortably between the two of them, fingers curled around Ryan’s script.

“I should go,” Chad says, looking a little awkward but not entirely, you know, _horrified_. “I’ll see you guys around.”

He offers Ryan a brief smile and then he’s gone.

Ryan stares wordlessly at Kelsi for a moment, all: _I’m not entirely sure what the hell just happened but it did happen and do you think it was good or bad because honestly? I’ve got nothing._

Kelsi stares back, and then says what is probably the only appropriate thing to say in these circumstances. “ _Dude_.”

It sounds so strange coming from her that Ryan can’t help laughing out loud, some of the tension cracking.

“You’ve been hanging out with the jocks for way too long,” he tells her.

Kelsi ignores him. “You guys make my _brain_ hurt,” she says. 

Ryan shrugs. “Join the freaking club.”

~

The school is taken over by Musical Mania, some kind of special student-wide disease that only occurs in the week before a musical. Suddenly random students who haven’t been within about fifty feet of the auditorium _ever_ are humming _You Are The Music In Me_ , everywhere smells of drying paint, and Sharpay amuses herself by shrieking _all the time_. 

Ryan’s musical isn’t taking place on the school premises, and it’s kind of nice to not be _directly_ involved in all the panic; it’s sort of sadistically entertaining to watch younger students running about covered in paint and sparkles trying to get the scenery to work. Not that he’ll say this aloud; his role as The Slightly Less Hysterical And Potentially Nicer Evans Twin must not be compromised.

Shar bounces back like _no one_ else on Earth; she might be despised by all the creepily fervent Wildcat people, but nonetheless comes into school every day dressed in sparkly and expensive things and acts like the diva she is. And Ryan sort of loves her for it. 

“Admit it,” he pushes, the two of them sitting in her dressing room, “It’s better now you’ve broken up with Troy.”

Sharpay won’t look at him for a long moment, and then sighs. “He was so vanilla he was practically tasteless,” she confesses. And then fixes him with her very _sharpest_ look. “If you tell anyone I will have you murdered.”

Ryan has heard this about three times a day since they were eight, and it doesn’t bother him anymore. “You can’t kill me,” he says reasonably. “For one thing, mom and dad would stop your allowance, and then how would you buy new shoes?”

Sharpay pouts at him, and then apparently sees something she doesn’t quite like in the mirror and leans forward, applying a fresh layer of lipgloss. Ryan smiles slightly, and acknowledges the fact that most people – including himself, on occasion – don’t understand Sharpay and therefore miss her motivations entirely. Shar _isn’t_ a bitch in any conventional sense of the word; she just wants everything to be perfect. The problems only stem from the fact she’s more fixated on the final goal than on the journey, and so she leaves a nice messy trail of wreckage behind her.

Worse people _do_ exist in the world.

“I was going to suggest some kind of Get Troy And Gabriella Back Together scheme in order to show willing,” Sharpay muses, “But Kelsi has it all in hand. The girl just seems to enjoy playing matchmaker.”

Because he can’t resist, Ryan smiles at her and begins: “ _Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match; find me a find, catch me a catch…_ ”

Shar glares. “ _Out_.”

But Ryan can tell that she secretly kind of loves him underneath.

The music and dance sessions with Kelsi are dropped for the moment; Kelsi spends every spare second she has rehearsing with various cast members, and Ryan is in the theatre for unreasonable amounts of hours every night, brushing up Sky Masterson for public consumption. Even if he does say so himself; he’s _good_. And he is seriously stealing the fedora afterwards, whether the wardrobe department want it back or not.

“Ryan,” Kelsi calls, sticking her head out of one of the practise rooms as he heads past, “Have you got a few minutes?”

“I’ve got half an hour,” he replies, backtracking, “What can I do to help?”

It turns out that Troy, even when trying to make up for inadvertently being an _asshole_ , is still, well, kind of a hilariously sadistic asshole after all. Ryan is amused at this; there does seem to be something slightly infectious about Shar that seeps into anyone who spends protracted amounts of time around her. And since Chad got talked into being Troy’s understudy forever ago, Troy is insisting that Chad do the middle performance. Consequently, Kelsi is trying to convince Chad that he wants to perform because he’s _awesome_ on top of all the other things she’s got to do.

For a moment Ryan thinks that they don’t pay her _enough_ ; then remembers that nobody’s paying Kelsi at _all_ and that’s possibly kind of the problem.

There’s a pot of tea and sheet music on the piano lid, and Ryan pours himself a cup before finding out what Kelsi wants. Chad is scuffing his toe against the floor, not quite looking at him, but things are still awkward between them because what they really need to do is just sit down and talk it through and neither of them seem to have the self-control to do that. At least; not any more.

“I need to go through the music _with_ Chad,” Kelsi explains, “And therefore I need someone to play the piano so I can use my hands. And you were _right there_ , so…”

Ryan sips his tea, and then sits down on the piano bench. “I apologise in advance,” he says, and then lowers his fingers to the keys.

Chad’s eyes flicker towards him a few too many times as Ryan plays slowly, Kelsi leading him through all the notes with patient care, but Ryan concentrates on not screwing up. 

“Right,” Kelsi decides, “Let’s put it all together.”

Ryan is about to scoot over and let her use the piano when she shakes her head. “Stay where you are.”

He obediently begins playing and Kelsi takes over Sharpay’s words; her voice is more hesitant but sweeter than Shar’s, and she offers an entirely different quality to the song. Chad sings his part with confidence, and Ryan can’t help smiling as he listens to the two of them singing together. Kelsi turns to him three-quarters of the way through the song and gives him a pointed glare; Ryan obediently comes in with the backing vocals. And yeah, it does feel a little weird, the three of them singing this song together, voices twining together on _you are the music in me_ ; Ryan hits a wrong note and Chad stares at him and _oh_ , this whole thing just isn’t _fair_.

When they finish, there’s barely time for Ryan to get his brain back in gear because Kelsi pushes a cup of tea at Chad and tells him to take a break before turning to Ryan, hands on her hips. Kelsi becomes _very very_ scary around musical times; not threatening and loud like Shar, but very _firm_. 

“You were complaining about _Luck Be A Lady_ this morning,” she says, “Since it _is_ your song, and I’ve got five minutes, get up and get on with it.” Her smile softens the words, but only just.

Ryan glances towards Chad, but Kelsi is looking so very terrifying, black sparkly newsboy cap angled delicately to the left, that he can’t really say no. He stands up, taking a sip of cooling tea, shakes out his shoulders, and decides that if he can perform this in front of Chad then he could do it _naked_ in front of _thousands_ without batting an eyelid.

“ _They call you Lady Luck; but there is room for doubt…_ ”

He forgets Chad’s eyes on him, forgets Kelsi watching him carefully as her fingers move on the piano keys, forgets everything but the words pouring from his mouth and he falls straight into the performance, as he always does; dancing and singing in fluid tandem, and for those few minutes he feels like he’s the _king_ of the world. And that, really, is why he does this. It really _is_.

“ _A lady wouldn’t make little snake eyes at me when I’ve bet my life on this roll…_ ”

He just about registers Kelsi joining in with backing vocals, playing the part of the other men at the dice game, swirling smoothly, cupping imaginary dice in his palms.

“ _Luck be a lady tonight!_ ”

He is aware of a complete silence, and while he pretends as hard as he can that he doesn’t _need_ the adoration he kind of thought Kelsi would at least have some constructive criticism. But she’s just staring at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, and he doesn’t dare turn and look at Chad.

“Well?” he asks anxiously, arms folding defensively across his chest. “I’ve got _three days_ before curtain up, if it’s terrible you have to tell me now.”

Kelsi seems to pull herself back together. “You’re my best friend, Ryan,” she manages eventually. “And it is very very wrong to even be _acknowledging_ it, but…”

“But what?” Ryan asks, genuinely worried now.

“You’re sexy,” Chad provides from behind him. “Like, _scarily_ sexy. I think Kelsi is trying to come to terms with that.”

Kelsi nods, with an awkward little smile. “What he said.”

“Oh. My. God.” Ryan drops his head into his hands. He thinks he might be blushing, which is horrible and embarrassing but… but oh well.

“Sorry dude,” Chad says, and he seems to have come up close without Ryan noticing, “But it’s true.”

Ryan cracks two fingers apart so he can peer between them at Chad. “What’s true?” he asks, and he knows he has to stop hiding and take all this like a _person_ , but stepping out from behind Sharpay was not supposed to end in singing songs that make everyone, including his friends, want to _jump_ him.

“Well,” Chad shrugs, lips curling a little, “You’re hot.” He seems to register what he’s said, and then adds swiftly: “And maddening. And way too easily led. But _hot_.”

Ryan honestly doesn’t know what to say in reply so it’s helpful when Kelsi steps in and says: “You let that sentence get away from you, didn’t you?”

Chad laughs. “A bit, yeah.”

Ryan pulls himself back together, because if by some horrible chance Shar finds out about this she will actually disown him and that will be slightly problematic, and lowers his hands from his face, forcing himself to breathe.

“You could come, if you wanted to,” he offers lightly. “To the show, I mean.”

Chad sighs, amusement gone from his face, and Kelsi stares down at her music, clearly wanting to be elsewhere.

“I’m sorry,” Chad says. “I just… I can’t.”

He presses his lips to Ryan’s cheek and walks out, head bowed.

It takes a lot of effort not to scream, but Ryan just about manages it. Dignity at _all_ times; it _is_ The Evans Way.

~

His parents, Shar, Ms Darbus, Kelsi, Gabi and Taylor all come to the opening night of _Guys And Dolls_ , and are right there whooping with flowers afterwards. The Spring Musical doesn’t start for another two days, and it’s nice to have people he knows in the audience. Shar is bubbling with praise, Gabi and Taylor can’t seem to stop hugging him, Ms Darbus goes all misty-eyed, and Kelsi is absolutely wreathed in smiles. His mom and dad make sure to line his dressing room with flowers and Ryan finds that performing without the safety net of East High is actually kind of _fun_. Exhilarating and scary and crazy _fun_.

Although he can’t be there, he gathers that the Spring Musical goes _wonderfully_ ; Sharpay and Troy are glossy and elegant and absolutely _marvellous_ , possibly because Troy has started to acknowledge that bits and pieces of what happened were kind of his fault, and also his weird lame hair has started growing back. Kelsi is delighted with the reception her songs get, and apparently Chad is really good when he takes over and performs for the evening. Ryan sends him a _break a leg_ text, and gets a _you too, man_ text in reply. He sort of feels it might be masochistic to keep pushing, hoping that Chad will crack, but on the other hand he refuses to give up on something that is _so close_ to getting there. All he needs is one catalyst.

The last night of _Guys and Dolls_ is also the night of the final Spring Musical, though _Guys And Dolls_ starts earlier and therefore finishes earlier. Ryan considers going to the aftershow party to congratulate Kelsi and Sharpay but wonders if he can actually deal with an evening with East High’s drama department being so happy with itself when he had no part in it.

He’s utterly _on fire_ onstage though. He’s the best he’s ever been, and gets four curtain calls. It feels good; it really feels like the start of something.

Ryan is has just finished washing off his make-up in his dressing room when a tentative knock comes at the door. He calls _come in_ , wondering how he could have a visitor when everyone he knows is over at East High.

Well. Apparently not quite _everyone_.

Chad shuffles his feet and clears his throat and then manages to close the door behind him; Ryan resists the urge to say _you came_ because he thinks he’d sound kind of too enthusiastic if he did and he wants to give the impression of not being _completely_ obsessed with Chad.

For his part, Chad doesn’t seem entirely sure what to say for himself either; he stares around at Ryan’s various bouquets; mommy and daddy are _brilliant_ at sending flowers and Shar has sent him a _lot_ of roses.

“I didn’t bring you flowers,” Chad blurts. “Because I’m still not entirely sure you _deserve_ flowers.”

Ryan pouts. “I was damn good,” he points out.

Chad smiles a little. “You were,” he agrees. “All right, _I_ didn’t _want_ to bring you flowers.”

Ryan shrugs; fair enough. “Ok,” he says carefully, and waits to see where Chad is going with this.

There’s a moment. “…But only for you would I drive halfway across the city in a bright pink car with _SE_ spraypainted on the hood.”

Ryan gapes. “You _didn’t_.”

“I got the keys from your sister’s purse,” Chad confirms. “I don’t have a car and I needed to get here. So we need to get back before she realises I stole it.” 

Ryan gets a highly amusing mental image of Chad driving Shar’s pink convertible, and then registers what Chad is saying.

“‘We’?” he asks.

Chad nods. “Will you come to the aftershow party with me?” he asks, voice serious and a little bit desperate around the edges. “I mean, it might be slightly fun. It’ll be sparkly, and, you know, someone spiked the punch.”

Ryan frowns. That’s _his_ job. “But…but _I_ always… and I wasn’t…”

Chad shrugs, smiling a little. “Well, I’m going to need to be under the influence of something if I’m going to be reasonably polite to your sister tonight.”

Ryan considers telling him to go away, but Chad _is_ trying and they’ve got to start forgiving each other somewhere or they won’t ever get anywhere.

“Gabi’s started talking to Troy again,” Chad offers.

Poor sweet Gabriella; she’ll end up forgiving Troy for being an asshole to her because she’s the cleverest person Ryan knows (except _maybe_ for Taylor) but in some cases she doesn’t learn anything. She doesn’t _want_ to learn anything; it’s Troy she loves, and she’ll let any amount of things go. Ryan thinks he might be in the same position, and he can see the apology in Chad’s eyes. 

“That’s good,” Ryan says at last, getting to his feet and putting the fedora he totally intends to steal back on. He’s reaching for his jacket when Chad catches his wrist.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “For parts of it. Not all of it, but… you know.”

Ah, eloquence. Not _exactly_ Chad’s strong point but Ryan isn’t sure he’s feeling entirely eloquent either right now.

“Me too,” he says.

They stare at each other for a moment and then both lean tentatively in for a kiss. It takes a moment for their lips to connect and to begin with it feels like they’re both testing the waters; then Chad drops Ryan’s wrist and slides his fingers into his hair instead and Ryan decides that yeah; he’s got his boyfriend _back_. He nibbles Chad’s lower lip and curls his fingers over the other boy’s hip, only realising now just how much he’s _missed_ this.

He finally pulls away, unable to stop a broad grin spreading across his mouth. “I think you said something about a party with spiked punch and inappropriate amounts of glitter?”

Chad nods, laughing, twining their fingers together and leading him out to where Sharpay’s car is parked. 

“Hey; don’t let it be said I don’t take you anywhere nice.”

**The End**


End file.
